Another One! A Better One!
by xxxEmma3xxx
Summary: Nine years after getting Jack back from World's End, Elizabeth hears that the Pearl hasn't put to sea all season... and finds herself worrying for the captain. COMPLETE... and now with a teaser for the sequel!
1. Then! The wine game

_Another One - A Better One._

Welcome back to all my awesomely beloved readers of last time... and hello to any newcomers! You'll need to read the other story (_The Courage and Fortitude to Follow Orders and Stay True in the Face of Danger and Almost Certain Death_) first or this one will make no sense. This takes place nine years after the last story ends.

* * *

Prologue: The Wine Game.

**Post-Accord, year two.**

"That's all, that's it, I swear it, by God, on my daughter's life, I swear that's all I remember, please!" The prisoner had screamed himself so raw that his words were barely intelligible.

Barbossa sighed and wiped his hands. "If that's really all you remember then I've no use for ye." His eyes flashed to Gibbs. "Kill him."

"No! Nope, no, sorry, stop it, sorry." Jack rushed forward, waving his arms madly to get everyone's attention. "I say _don't _kill him." He skidded to a stop in front of Barbossa and lowered his voice. "Come on, mate, you see he's telling the truth and he's got a _child _for God's sake. Let him go."

It had been a long day and Barbossa was not inclined to be merciful. "Jack," he sighed, "the man disappointed me and got blood all over my coat and I'm annoyed. He's to be killed. That be my final word on the matter."

Pirates closed in on the prisoner, but Jack clapped his hands loudly and they stopped. "Gentlemen, you're going to have to hold on a minute, please! It looks like we have ourselves a dispute."

Gibbs froze. "A dispute? Over this? We've not had a dispute all summer."

Jack shrugged. "Well, we have one now."

"Sweet Mary this is all I need," Barbossa muttered, disgusted.

Jack refused to feel guilty. "Sorry for the holdup, we'll make it quick," he promised. "Whose turn, mine or yours?"

"You always ask me that. I could just say 'mine' every time and you wouldn't be any the wiser. It's your turn," Barbossa added after a moment.

"Ah, yes, you're right - last time was a knife fight, that was your idea." Jack pursed his lips. "No space here for a footrace. How about... the wine game!"

"Jack, I hate the wine game."

"That's just because I always win."

"No, you always win Liar's Poker too, and I never complain about that, do I? Really – why can't we play Liar's Poker instead?"

"Because I choose the wine game," Jack explained patiently. He withdrew a vial from his belt and jiggled it around, smiling when its dark contents foamed up into a poisonous green color. "It's my turn to choose the contest and that's my choice. So."

"Bring us wine!" Barbossa spat the order, and the pirates rushed to fetch two bottles and hand them to Jack.

Jack turned his back, and a moment later tossed the empty vial to the floor. He faced Barbossa and held out both wine bottles with a big smile. "Your choice, mate. I'd advise the one on the left."

"Your left or mine?" Barbossa asked without much interest. Trying to win this game by outthinking Jack had a success rate of exactly zero, so he decided to just pick at random this time. He snatched both of the bottles and turned away to make his choice.

He handed one to Jack and they clinked them together. "Health," Barbossa said roughly.

"Health." They both drank a big gulp and then watched each other to see who had won. "So which did you choose?" Jack asked.

"You'll see in a minute. If I have to be in suspense, so do you." They locked eyes, Jack smiling and Barbossa just miserably waiting for the inevitable to happen to him.

After a moment Jack groaned, "Oh, no," and clutched at his stomach.

Barbossa crossed his arms, knowing he was not yet out of the woods - Jack frequently pretended to have lost the game when he had actually won, just to make the unpleasant surprise even worse when it finally came. Barbossa would not be fooled this time - he waited calmly to see if Jack was faking or not.

It was not a fake. Jack doubled up and began to vomit uncontrollably, signaling his first-ever loss at the Wine Game. Barbossa thought it would be undignified to shout _Hah I win_!, but couldn't stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

When Jack was finished, he wiped his mouth and looked up and said, "I think I see why you prefer Liar's Poker."

Barbossa offered him the unpoisoned wine to rinse his mouth out with, but made no effort to stop laughing at him.

Gibbs was still holding a knife to the prisoner's throat, prepared to carry out the orders of the winner. "So we should kill him now, Captain?"

Barbossa discovered that his mood no longer needed improving. "Bah, don't bother." He didn't like that the prisoner was looking at him as if he were Father Christmas, though, so he snatched Jack's bottle and tossed it over. "But do make him drink the bad wine."

* * *

TBC. 


	2. Now! The Black Pearl is boarded

**The _Black Pearl_ is Boarded (**edits for style as of 4/08**)**

"Hey! Wait! I-I mean I'm sorry, Miss, I mean, Ma'am, I'm sorry but you can't go in there. I mean you shouldn't even be aboard - who are you? - but you _definitely _can't go into the cabin. Captain's orders - he's not to be disturbed."

The woman turned around slowly. He saw that despite her perfect figure and the girlish wisps of hair that escaped their updo to tickle her neck, he had been right to call her ma'am. The woman was at least twenty-five years old. Handsome, he would call her. Striking. Some might even say beautiful, but the cabin boy liked his ladies frail and delicate, and this woman who so foolishly prepared to disturb the captain during his rest was anything but.

"He'll see me," she said imperiously.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but he's said he won't see anyone. Even Captain Sparrow hasn't been allowed to..."

"Is that so? How does he eat?"

"We...we leave his meals outside for him and then go away, ma'am. He doesn't even really eat them. Ma'am, I don't think I should be telling you-"

The woman took a step closer to him. "It's no secret that the _Pearl _hasn't put to sea in almost eight weeks," she told him. "The only reason I can see for that is one of them is unfit to travel. Jack's accounted for - I found two girls and a barkeep who swear he's been in to see them every night - so who does that leave?"

"Ma'am, please," the boy begged her, truly miserable. "He would kill me if he knew I'd told anyone. Or if I let anyone in to see him before he can come out on his own. You have to understand-"

His voice trailed off as she reached into her gown and pulled out a very small, ladylike pistol. She cocked it and fired a bullet into the deck. "There," she said, "Now I've fired on your ship and I'm an enemy. I invoke the right of parlay. You must send me to one of your captains to make peace immediately. As Jack is -ahem- occupied, that means..."

"But...but..." the boy swallowed. "But only a pirate can invoke the terms of the pirates' code, and-"

"-And she," said a voice from behind them, "Is most definitely a pirate."

The cabin boy looked simultaneously relieved and terrified. "Captain, I'm _so _sorry we woke you-"

Barbossa ignored him and held out his hand to the woman. "Miss Elizabeth. Come in."

* * *

He had cut a fine figure in the doorway, unusually clean and dressed to the pirate nines and standing fully erect, but as soon as the door closed behind them he collapsed against the wall with a string of curses that made her smile.

"I… Captain, I think I've missed you."

He began painstakingly to undo all the buttons of his coat. "Should have shown him the shoulder."

"That was my next move," she agreed, suppressing a smile. "It was a very last resort, I assure you - I no longer prance around half-dressed in front of strange men."

"Pity." Barbossa finally got the coat off his shoulders. "Elizabeth... not that I don't welcome ye gladly... but what _are _you doing here?"

When the bandage came into view she grimaced - eight weeks and still fresh blood? "You can have three guesses."

He let her help him sit down on the bed slowly and lie back in a huge mess of pillows. She got him a drink - water, with a glare at the mountain of rum bottles that littered his desk - and while he sipped, asked a fairly stupid question: "How are you?"

"Charmed, as ever."

She'd always been aware that she missed her pet pirate, but until that moment Elizabeth had not realized just how huge an itch his presence would scratch. "Likewise, Captain," she said, meaning it.

* * *

She left the ship an hour later and prowled the streets of Tortuga until she found what she was looking for. There was a bit of a limp that almost threw her off, but the hat and the sash and those wild gestures were unmistakable even from behind. "Excuse me! Exc-" Elizabeth sighed and reminded herself that she was not in a Port Royal drawing room. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted: "Jack! Oy, Jack Sparrow - over here!"

He froze, turned around slowly, and smiled. "Lizzie, darling!" He held out his arms to her and, fancy dress notwithstanding, she gave him a hug. All too quickly he pulled away. "I heard you were here, love, poking about Tortuga looking for good old Jack Sparrow... but on second thought I doubt it's a sudden pressing need for my company that's brought you."

She didn't mince words. "Why hasn't he seen a doctor? It's not going to heal on its own."

"You haven't changed much," Jack complained at her lecturing tone. "Pish-posh, Lizzie, he'll be fine. A little salt air and-"

"Jack, you know he doesn't look good..." She took a closer look at the pirate then, and couldn't resist reaching out to touch his cheek. He was a good decade older than she was, and didn't exactly take pains to keep up his appearance, and yet… it seemed that the years had done nothing at all to him. He looked exactly the same as when they had parted ways nearly ten years ago. Instantly, ill-advised magical bargaining came to mind. "But _you _look good... too good. You haven't gone and done anything stupid, have you?"

Jack's upper lip pulled off his teeth as though he were about to bite into something rotten. "Define _stupid_."

"Jack!" Elizabeth overcame all her years of respectability to smack him in the arm. "What did you do?"

"What, the face or the..." he gestured vaguely towards his abdomen.

"Both."

"It was two bullets to the gut, love," Jack explained. "Tore straight through and out the other side. He should be dead. We went to Tia Dalma, but the strongest pick-me-up she had… while it did keep him alive and have those lovely side effects you've doubtless noticed in both of us… it didn't do enough."

She wasn't unduly surprised that Jack had decided to take a swig of his friend's medicine. "What about a doctor?"

Jack shook his head. "I brought two in at knifepoint, but they both said right away it was fatal." _And then Barbossa was so annoyed he shot them both dead and said: now how's THAT for fatal. _But he didn't tell her that.

Elizabeth found Jack a convenient target to absorb her frustration and worry. "And yet here you are cavorting around the city with your whores. You're so very concerned for him, Jack, I'm touched."

"You've been out of the game too long, love," he reproached her gently. "You've forgotten how to scheme. Barbossa's taken it into his head that he wants to die at sea. You know and I know that if we put to sea he'll get his wish – right now he's not fit to go anywhere. Here at least there's food and rest and medicine. Therefore I am trying to keep him in Tortuga as long as I possibly can-"

"-By refusing to return to the ship to take command," Elizabeth finished for him. "He's not quite pigheaded enough to try and set sail on his own."

"Exactly."

"But Jack, that's a temporary measure at best. He's not getting better. He needs help."

"Help?" Jack's voice jumped half an octave. "And what sort of help d'you have in mind, then, eh? Who's going to come and help a _pirate – _and who _could _do anything about a torn-open belly like that anyway? Hmm? Please – I'm all ears!"

Elizabeth didn't mind being vented at – at least it meant Jack was worried and doing the best he could. "Who indeed," she murmured… and then her eyes got very wide. "Jack!"

"Idea?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes! Did you know, I almost died when Willie was born. A friend of my father's – a doctor, a good one – he saved my life." Elizabeth's gaze slid sideways and she hoped Jack wouldn't notice her getting a little evasive. "He's a bit, er…unorthodox… but you know the captain couldn't be much worse off no matter _what_ we did to him."

Jack's eyebrows went up.

Elizabeth wasn't sure what question he was thinking at her, but the answer was definitely: "I don't know. But I'll go back to Port Royal right away and talk to him."

"You'll _persuade_ him?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "If it comes to that," she said stoutly. "In fact I will _kidnap _him if it comes to that, but Jack, I'll be back here with this doctor on the very next ship that sails."

Jack laughed and they were both too keyed-up to notice that it was a little forced. "Now you're talking, love. It's worth a try, eh?"

* * *

TBC.

Remember, the story is in THEN/NOW format. Next chapter will be a THEN.


	3. Then! Elizabeth's first few days as mama

A/N: This chapter we meet an OC. Don't worry: I do not write Mary Sues or Gary Stus, and I don't let OC's overstay their welcome. Anyone not central to the pirateverse will do their thing and then will go away at the opportune moment. makes Jack's earnest-face So just hear me out, mates...

**

* * *

Post-accord, year one: Elizabeth's First Few Days of Motherhood**

The room was now empty except for Governor Swann, his son-in-law, and his daughter's body on the bed (_body _was really the only way to look at it; the chest still rose and fell faintly, but the slack bloodless face and eyes that never opened could hardly be recognized as _Elizabeth_.) The midwife had long since taken the screaming baby and departed to make way for the priest. The priest gave the rites and waited and waited and finally began to doze. Governor Swann ordered him carried out in his chair, still asleep, leaving himself and Will for all intents and purposes alone.

Will was gripping the mantle so hard the wood creaked. "She's not going to live through this, is she?" he asked suddenly into the silence.

Swann didn't answer. They continued to wait, not looking at each other, both of them privately wrestling with heavy and irrational guilt (Will for his obvious role in the manufacture of the deadly baby, Swann for his consent to such an ill-advised marriage in the first place).

Eventually they heard someone on the stairs. "Who's that?" Will demanded. "If someone's called for the undertaker already I'll kill them – Elizabeth is _still-_" He meant to say _still alive _but his voice cracked and he couldn't do it.

"It's not the undertaker. I sent for someone else," Swann confessed. "A last resort. An old friend, someone who often believes he can do the impossible…"

Will's head jerked up. "Tell me the truth: What are her chances?"

"The midwife said she has no chance at all, but obviously that's rubbish," Swann said firmly. They both pretended not to hear his voice shake. "We won't know anything more precise until Dr. Bailey examines her."

"Bailey?" Will turned around. "Not Butcher Bailey from London? You can't be ser-"

A soft, dry voice from the doorway. "It seems my reputation precedes me." When it seemed that nobody was going to invite him, the doctor just stepped into the room. "Your son-in-law, I presume? Yes? Weatherby?" Swann didn't look up to making introductions, so he shrugged and introduced himself. "Dr. Hugh Bailey. Please, save the 'Butcher' nonsense if you don't mind – it's a nickname I'd much rather be without."

Will edged closer to the bed to get between him and Elizabeth. "As I recall, you got the name because of some ghastly experiments where all your patients bled to death. I'm sure you can see Elizabeth is _already _bleeding to death – she doesn't need your help."

"Only two bled to death," the doctor corrected, unruffled. "And a few others died of… additional complications."

"You ran to the Caribbean because London was going to try you for _murder_!" Will widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. Friend of the family or not, he decided, this man was under no circumstances getting within slaughtering distance of Elizabeth. "This is my_ wife. _If you think I'm letting you near her-"

Bailey could have had this discussion in his sleep. "The patients I worked on were _already _dying," he explained calmly, "Through no fault of mine. Now, of course it's not safeor easyto take blood from a living person and use it to sustain another. That's why many died. However, _some survived, _after everyone had given up hopeWeatherby asked me over here tonight to see what I could do about his daughter. From the looks of her…"

"They say she's dying. You can take a look if you want. But don't you dare touch her, at least until…" Will trailed off.

"Until what?" Bailey demanded, already opening his bag. On the way over he had been briefed on the problem: a difficult birth and vast quantities of blood that just wouldn't stop coming. "Until she's beyond saving?"

Will still didn't get out of the way until Governor Swann put in his two cents: "We've tried everything rational, Will, and she only…she only gets worse. Something drastic is our only hope, so something drastic must be done. You of all people… surely you agree?"

Will finally stepped aside, sick with dread.

* * *

TBC.

A/N: If you're wondering about medical accuracy... like naval strategy, it's not something that I know about on my own. I did a bit of research and this is what I came up with: It's conceivable that people were doing blood transfusions successfully at this point in history. Unsuccessful ones date back to the 1500's or 1600's. Even though the first well-documented successful cases were in the early 1800's, by the time of Pirates they had already worked a lot of the kinks out (it was established that you had to go person-to-person rather than sheep-to-person, for example). So it's not completely crazy... unlike some of the other stuff that may be happening in the future of this story.

Anyhow... review, willya! Thanks to you guys who already dropped me a line!

Next chapter is set to go. Tomorrow perhaps, thursday at the latest.


	4. Now! Jack drives a hard bargain

**7/08: Did some editing to make this a bit neater & shorter. Boy, I can be a blabbermouth sometimes (blabberkeyboard?).**

* * *

Elizabeth knew that all joking aside, "persuading" the doctor was out of the question because he was a stickler for propriety and, worse, a friend of her father's. Her two remaining options were reason and kidnap, and of these, she finally selected kidnap because it had a smaller risk of failure.

She chloroformed the doctor and stuffed him into a grog barrel. She raided his place for medical supplies, boxed everything up, and paid extravagantly to have it all (including the barrel) shipped with no questions. It was a smooth, easy kidnapping, done so well that it might even have gone totally unnoticed...

...Had it not coincided perfectly with the disappearance of the Governor's daughter. Mere hours after Elizabeth set sail, her maid noticed that the rusty sword was missing from its place of honor over the bedroom fireplace. When she went to scold Willie for playing with it again, he said: "I don't have it. Mama probably does. Do you know when she's coming back?" and had no idea how big a can of worms he had just opened.

"I beg your p-..oh, no... Coming back?"

"Yes." Willie was still unconcerned. "Mama came in last night to give me a kiss, like for goodbye... she thought I was sleeping but I heard her."

The mistress frequently behaved a _little _strangely, but that crossed the line. The maid went straight to the Governor's mansion and told him everything.

* * *

"Dr. Bailey?"

The doctor's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. It was tricky, given that his hands were tied together and his entire body ached, but eventually he managed and looked around. "Who- ? Hello? Where am I?" He had been having woozy nightmares of being trapped in a small dark space, banged and tumbled over and over.

A figure stepped up into the light. A figure in a dress. "It's Elizabeth Turner, Doctor. Please... it's all right."

"Where are we?" he whispered, immensely glad to see a familiar face. "Who's taken us and why?"

"Oh, no," she laughed, "Nobody's taken _me._ I've taken _you_. Here - let me untie you. I just didn't want you running away if you woke up before I-"

"_You _kidnapped me?"

She raised her chin. "I did."

"I see." He matched her lofty tone. "Strange behavior for a lady..."

"Depends on the lady, I should think." She drew a knife and began to cut him loose. "Now, listen: I need your help. A very dear friend is hurt and he-"

"A pirate?" He smiled at her look of surprise. "Come, I've known about you since the childbirth. I saw your shoulder, as well as several other scars, and everybody knows the story of- oh! Is it Jack Sparrow we're helping?"

"No." Elizabeth helped him to his feet. "Regrettably it's someone slightly less resilient and much less lucky... who has a bad habit of shooting anyone who displeases him... and who's mortally opposed to doctors."

"... Oh."

* * *

Bailey stuck close to Elizabeth's side as a filthy pirate called _Jack _banged on the door of the captains' cabin. "Hello? Lizzie's here, with a doctor, can I let-"

"I said no doctors!" bellowed the denizen of the cabin. _Clearly drunk, _Bailey noted.

"Come on, mate, we talked about this, this one's different," Jack reminded patiently. "Elizabeth brought him."

Mumbled curses. Crashes, as the ogre attempted to move about his lair. Finally something coherent: "I want no more othem filthy doctorsh! And Elizhabeth… can't… see… this!"

Bailey drew even closer to her. "Are you sure..."

She patted him absently on the arm. "Captain Barbossa," she called through the door, "Might I remind you of those days at World's End you spent holding my hair back while I threw up rum into a bucket?"

Long pause. "And into the bed."

"And into the bed," she agreed. "Time's come to return the favor. I don't care what state you're in, and I've brought you someone you can trust. Please open the door."

There was another silence. "Verrawell - you can send in the sawbones," he slurred at last. There was another crash as he lurched into some piece of furniture and knocked it over. "But _ye _will shtay out there!"

_Click._ "Did I just hear him cock a pistol?" Bailey asked quietly.

"Probably." Elizabeth grimaced.

If he was this bad before they even got inside, how uncooperative would he be when a doctor started to give him _orders_? After a moment Elizabeth heaved a sigh and said: "Oh, come, Captain, there must be some way I can... _persuade _you."

At that, the injured man unbarred the door and flung it open. He had wrapped himself entirely up in a blanket...yet still wore a big plumed hat. "Now don't do that, miss," he rasped, his breath reeking with so much rum that Elizabeth had to turn aside. "Snot nice teasin 'mbody with somethin they're never goin to have." His eyes were sunken and very distant. "Never," he repeated in a whisper.

"Rubbish," she said firmly, as if assuring her child that there were _no_ monsters under the bed. "Go lie down. We are coming in."

* * *

"I think it's time I made proper introductions," Jack said as Barbossa stumbled back into his lair and Bailey edged carefully along the wall as far from the bed as he could get. "Doctor, this is Captain Hector Barbossa, undisputed lord of the _Black Pearl _and author of the destruction of ships without number. Barbossa, this nice fellow is Butcher Bailey, the man who saved Elizabeth's life after dear William so inconsiderately got her with child and who may, we hope, be able to perform you the very same service." He paused. "And by that I mean save your life, not get you with child. And that leaves me: I am the _other _undisputed lord of the _Black Pearl_, the only man eaten by the Kraken what ever lived to tell the tale." He took off his hat with a flourish and bowed. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service."

The doctor spoke from where he was, plastered against the far wall. "Pleased to meet you, Captain Sparrow. So: I understand there's something about a bullet wound?"

"Two, in fact."

"Two." Bailey nodded. "Very well. I'll do what I can but I insist on reasonable precautions. I want his hands where I can see them. Thank you… now, someone take that gun away from him and _then _perhaps… yes, much better." With a deep breath he approached the figure on the bed. He looked him over briefly - mostly to be sure he was still breathing - and touched the side of his neck to feel for pulse.

It didn't take long to confirm his first impression, and considering the lump under the covers that looked suspiciously like another pistol, Bailey wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. He searched for the best way to break some very bad news to a very dangerous person. "Captain. I..."

The long pause was answer enough. "_No_!" Elizabeth took him by the shoulders and spun him around. "_Don't _say it's hopeless. You don't understand - this is a _very dear friend_. Look again - there must be something you can do."

"I all-all right," he stammered, taken aback by her use of physical violence. A _lady _shaking him like a terrier with a rat? "I'll look again, Mrs. Turner, but I've already seen enough. Look at all this blood, this dirt... this _rum_. But all right." He stepped up and peeled away Barbossa's blanket then the shirt beneath, which was difficult because it had been fused to the pirate's body with weeks-old pus and blood. When he saw the cavernous hole he drew his breath in sharply. "This...er..." he took a moment to collect himself. "Captain Barbossa, I can _see _your intestines."

"And I'm sure they be thmost loveliest intestines y'ever laid eyes on," Barbossa growled.

"It looks…well, the dirt makes it difficult to say, but it looks… almost gangrenous." His fingers hovered a few inches above the wound, not so much out of consideration for the patient as from worry that the rot might be catching. "What exactly do you expect me to do?"

"Anything'd be an improvement. Jack was pickin pieces of the bullets out with a fork."

Jack shrugged. "Any port in a storm. Rum?"

Elizabeth shook her head but the doctor didn't even notice the question - he was busy trying to make sense of the wound.

"You're hurtin me," Barbossa announced loudly and clearly, once he'd started to poke around in earnest. "And if you don't hurry it up, I'll shoot you."

"All right, doing fine," Bailey encouraged without listening. He was so engrossed he forgot to be wary of Barbossa's temper. "Someone get me the green glass jar from my bag, I'll give him something to knock him out…"

"Knock...? Try it an I'll give ye a hole in yrrguts to match!" Barbossa struggled and nearly made it up to a sitting position before Jack tackled him and pinned him down.

"Cmon mate, you'll make it worse!"

"_Arrrr_!"

"Oh, God, let _me _handle this." Elizabeth shoved Jack aside and managed to pin the captain down herself - he really _was _in a bad way. "You're behaving like a child," she hissed down into his face. "Now, you listen. Do you really think I've brought you anything other than a _friend _who is trying to _help _you and who is only giving you a drug so that he can better figure out how to _save your life?_" Her voice dropped. "Jack and I will sit with you the entire time you're out. I promise it's going to be all right. Now will you _please _behave yourself?"

He stopped fighting. Jack looked offended. "Why doesn't that ever work when _I_ say it? Oh, well… woman's touch and all that."

Elizabeth smirked at him. "Indeed."

* * *

A few minutes later Bailey was elbow-deep in gore again and Jack didn't like it. "If he's bleeding out, mate," he ventured, "Shouldn't you _not _be doing that? Maybe we ought to slap a bandage back on..."

"Oh, certainly - because that's done wonders for him in weeks past." Frustration had turned the doctor nasty, but he did indeed back off with his examination. "This is a mess. He _needs_ an operation, but he won't survive it - he'll bleed to death..."

"So he needs blood," Elizabeth concluded. "Well, at least I kidnapped the right doctor."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack looked from one to the other, sensing that he was missing out on an important part of the conversation. "Needs blood? What are you going to do - scoop it off the floor and pour it back in?" He took a big swig of rum. "Doesn't work," he informed them glumly. "I already tried it."

They ignored him. "Mrs. Turner, I can't say his chances are good either way..."

"Either way _what_?" Jack practically shouted. "Will someone _please _tell me what is going on!"

"What's goin on," Barbossa said weakly from the bed, "Is I'm dying, and you're givin me a headache with all that noise."

"Oh, good - you're awake. And lucid." Bailey moved into his line of vision. "Both of you, listen. I'm going to explain something called _transfusion _that might help you."

The pirates exchanged glances. "We don't believe in demons," Jack said. "And for the record, we're also iffy about..." he pointed up, "the man upstairs."

Barbossa closed his eyes. "Someone hit him for me."

"Listen," Bailey repeated. "Whatever you have have heard about my work, I _promise_ you this is good solid science... and it's your only chance." When they finally quieted down, he explained the procedure.

They didn't seem happy with it. "I understand the part where you drain somebody's blood out of them," Jack agreed, nervously gesturing even more than usual. "That makes sense to us - we put holes in people all the time. However, I confess meself doubtful, mate, that you can then squirt it back _into another person_."

"You can, sometimes."

Barbossa shrugged. "Well I've got nothin to lose, have I. Whose blood'll we take? How bout that new cabin boy; I never liked him anyways..."

Bailey's jaw dropped. "No, it's... it's not a human sacrifice for Heaven's sake! _Both_ parties are expected to survive _-_ my God, what kind of person do you think I am!"

"Don't know nor care. So whose blood?" Barbossa repeated.

"Well, a relative would be best. You realize this operation involves a great deal of risk regardless, but of course it usually goes better when the parties are the same flesh and blood. Have you got family nearby?"

All eyes turned to Barbossa. "Jack, I'm not thinkin properly," he mumbled. "Your call."

Jack pursed his lips. "No," he said after a moment. "No family. We'll just use me."

"Captain Sparrow, not to disparage your physical condition, sir, but perhaps someone a bit, you know, soberer and broader across the shoulders for example might be better able to give what-"

"No," Barbossa interrupted. "Jack's fine."

Bailey shrugged. "As you wish, Captain... It's your funeral, after all."

* * *

Elizabeth decided to impose a hiatus on propriety for the time being. "I can't be of any help if I can't move," she declared. "Somebody get this dress off me."

The doctor began to sputter a protest, but a flick of Jack's knife had already taken care of her laces. She stepped out of the gown and tossed it aside, thinking that that was _much_ better but that pants would have been better still. She pushed up the sleeves of her underdress and ordered, "Just tell me what to do."

Bailey sighed defeatedly. "Is it even worth asking whether blood makes you squeamish?"

She patted her shoulder and he remembered the scar. "I thought as much. Well, not that it'll make a difference at this point, but take this bottle and wipe Sparrow's wrist down. You know, to prevent contamination and infection."

Barbossa, who had snuck into a sitting position when no one was looking, chose that moment to sneeze very loudly and wetly straight into his gaping stomach.

Not exactly the height of sanitation. Everyone winced.

The doctor warned: "Understand that his chances of survival are not good either way," and then pounced before Jack could change his mind. "Ready?" he asked, brandishing a scalpel.

Jack made one feeble attempt to twist free, then gave up and held still. "Looks like it."

* * *

But when the first drop of blood appeared Jack jerked away. "Actually – wait. We need to clear a few things up first. A few... conditions."

Bailey's jaw dropped.

Elizabeth hissed "_Jack_!"

Barbossa just rolled his eyes. "Let's hear."

"First: You understand that this is strictly on loan."

"On loan?" Everyone repeated in unison.

"Yes. Next time I get meself hurt, I'm going to want it all back."

Barbossa rolled his eyes again. "Fine."

"With interest."

"_Fine_! Now can we just-"

"Wait. Two more things." Jack drew himself up and tried to sound tough, but a smile got through anyway. "I want that party."

"That's a terrible idea and you know-"

"I want the party or you won't get a drop." Jack had been pushing for months now to storm Port Royal (or any other large Caribbean city; Jack didn't consider himself a picky man), overrun the Governor's mansion or castle or capitol building, and throw a massive party there. Citizens who had been captured and disarmed and didn't seem too upset would be invited to attend. People who resisted would be locked up (Jack thought that shooting them would spoil the atmosphere). In the morning the pirates would simply leave, with all the house's valuables of course, leaving everything else intact and the civilians unharmed except for massive hangovers. Jack was convinced that it was an excellent idea that would make him even more legendary than he was already. Barbossa thought it was a pointless risk that would probably get them killed. Until now all the whining and scheming in the world hadn't been enough to secure Jack his partner's cooperation, but today...

Jack made a big show of licking the trickle of blood from his arm. "Mmmm, that's good."

"Jack, I do hate you for this," Barbossa informed him evenly.

"Ah, but if I didn't drive a hard bargain you'd _despise _me for it, and that's worse," Jack pointed out. Barbossa didn't argue. "Now, have we got a deal or not?"

Barbossa weighed his options, which - given he didn't really have any - didn't take long. "Aright, I agree. Though I do predict it'll lead us straight to our death. And the last?"

Jack bent down to whisper it in his ear. Whatever it was made the captain turn red and snarl like a rabid beast... But he needed Jack's help and Jack was threatening quite seriously to withhold it, so there wasn't much choice. He looked over at Elizabeth for a long moment. He glared back up at Jack. "Agreed."

Jack sat down again. "All right, we have an accord," he beamed at the doctor. "Take whatever he needs."

* * *

TBC.

Leave me love!


	5. Then! Norrington returns fire

A/N: For those of you who've detected hints of a B/E or J/E romance… all I can say is, I won't violate the laws of Disney pairings. Beyond that, the characters do what they want to do. I promise you I won't force anything (ie, no crazy three-way marriage, no Elizabeth/AnaMaria lesbian lovefest, and definitely NO X-RATED SCENES BETWEEN BARBIE AND ELIZABETH! Good god, JeanieBeanie33, it's a _Disney movie_!!)

Although, now that you mention it... hmm...

:o)

**

* * *

Post-accord, year three. The pirates load the guns.**

When Barbossa came out on deck and found that preparations for the battle had all but ceased, he was livid. "Who told you to sit down and do nothing?" He shouted at one of the pirates who had started to doze in the shade of the mast. "D'ye not see that ship on the horizon, a Navy ship, comin after us? Hmm? Get movin or I won't wait for them to catch and hang ye - I'll hang ye myself!"

The pirate scrambled to his feet and scurried out of Barbossa's way. Before the captain could find anyone else to rage at, he was stopped by a bored drawl over his shoulder: "Relax, mate - it was me who told them to take it easy." He whirled around to see Jack, holding out a spyglass to him. "Take a look. It's only Norrington. We'll have some fun, put a couple of holes in those fancy red coats, be out of there quick as a wink, it'll be spectacular."

Barbossa thought it was _never _a good idea to take a battle lightly. "A bullet's a bullet no matter how much he likes ye, Jack," he reminded.

_Or is it_? Jack smiled. "Of course, of course, you're right," he said placating. He raised his voice. "Load the guns!" He waited until Barbossa had gone away, then added more quietly: "...with _this_."

* * *

The _Pearl _was obviously ready to make a stand. Guns were out, all hands on deck with weapons glinting in the sun... and she was coming in at that same blasted angle again...

"Barbossa's favorite," Norrington muttered grimly to his aide. "She'll come around and get a volley off and be gone again, never giving us enough of a target to really retaliate."

Gilette sighed. "If only that ship were just a _little _bit slower, we could-"

"Well, it's not." Norrington grimaced. "We'll not waste fire when we can't possibly hit anything. Have the gunners hold until just after the _Pearl _has shot at us and tacked off. We'll come around first to where we have a better angle - they won't expect that and they won't get away in time."

"We're to let them take a free shot at us, sir?"

"Yes but we'll get to take a shot in return, for a change. Make sure everyone knows what's coming and takes cover; I don't want to lose men unnecessarily. And don't worry about the ship - she can take it. The _Pearl's _firepower is not all _that _intimidating."

They gave the orders. Norrington almost regretted the plan in that one moment where the _Pearl _was close enough that he could see the pirates all ready and hear the captain's bellow _FIRE ALL_-

But by then it was of course too late for regret. "DOWN!" Norrington screamed, and hit the deck. Everyone followed suit.

Gilette didn't get down fast enough.

Over the sounds of cannons booming, wood cracking, and men shouting, Norrington could still hear the dull _thud _of his lieutenant's body crashing to the deck. "Gilette _no_!" He scrambled on all fours over to him and bent down reflexively to listen for breath. It was only _after _he heard Gilette breathing normally that Norrington realized that he hadn't seen any blood. Hit by a cannonball and no blood at all? Oddly enough, instead of blood it looked like Gilette was covered in... vomit?

He took a closer look. No, not vomit either. Breadcrumbs. It seemed that Gilette had been hit not by a cannonball but by a huge ball of stale bread. The impact had merely knocked him out, perhaps cracked a rib or two, but nothing more serious than that. Norrington jumped to his feet and looked around. The entire ship seemed to be decked in burnt breadcrumbs, and soldiers were standing up slowly, looking around, checking to Norrington for orders.

"Hold fire," he barked at last. He went to the railing. There was Jack Sparrow, waving cheerily as the _Pearl _went by. In his other hand was a loaf of bread.

"'Ello, there, Commodore!"

"Sparrow!" Norrington shouted back. "What in God's name are you doing?"

"We stole it last week!" He banged the loaf against the railing and gave a big shrug. "But it's too stale even for us!"

"Shall we return fire, sir?" one of the soldiers asked quietly.

Norrington grimaced. "It hardly seems sporting..."

The soldier hesitated, then suggested, "Well, we do have some old hardtack of our own, sir..."

There might come a day when he had to beat this ship for real, Norrington knew, so why not practice now when the stakes were so much lower? He ran along the deck to stay even with Sparrow and deliver him another message. "Have it your way, Jack! But fair warning: if I take you alive, I'm going to have to hang you!"

The pirate didn't seem disturbed. "Understood, mate!"

He seemed a lot more disturbed when a shot rang out - a _real _shot this time, a metal bullet from a metal gun - and missed him only by inches.

"By God that's his own captain," Norrington breathed as Barbossa thundered up from the hold and barreled across the deck.

"_ARRRRR _Jack Sparrow what the blazes have you done! This be the last time you-"

"Whoa! Whoa, easy, let's talk, talk it out mate- _HEY_!" Backing away was not enough and neither was running and Jack eventually had to draw his sword and turn to defend himself.

Norrington's soldiers stood and watched the _Black Pearl_'s two captains fight each other with real and savage intensity. "Come on, men, forget about them!" Norrington urged. "We'll come around and start firing while the captains are distracted!"

"Firing what, sir?"

Norrington glanced over to the _Pearl, _where Jack was clinging to the mast and hacking away at the rigging so Barbossa couldn't climb up after him. His lieutenant followed his gaze. "Right. Bread it is, then, sir."

Norrington adjusted his wig. "Precisely."

* * *

An hour later the soldiers were all on their knees, armed pirates standing over them. "Good try, boys," Jack said encouragingly. "You fought with honor... and you lost... which should perhaps tell you all you need to know about fighting with honor..."

"Enough, Jack," barked the more bad-tempered half of the _Pearl_'s leadership. It had taken him a while to regain consciousness after having Jack's pistol dropped on his head from great height, but he was up and about now and looking vicious. "I say we kill everyone."

Jack bit his lip. "Let _me _handle the surrender," he proposed after a moment of thought. "After all, I did direct most of the battle - you didn't help at all."

"Aye, because I couldn't see straight, because you threw a gun at my head!" Barbossa argued childishly.

"Well at least I didn't shoot you with it," Jack pointed out, equally childishly. "Unlike _some _people I could mention, who shoot at their friends-"

"Very well – the parlay be your privilege on one condition: All the officers, especially him_-_" he pointed in Norrington's direction without looking "-be put to death. Kill them… I care not quick or slow... and then you can work the rest of the surrender however you want."

Jack frowned, then blinked and laughed uneasily. "You sound awful serious, mate."

"I am." Barbossa took him aside and explained quietly, "You can't teach them how we like to fight and then let them live so they can go teach everybody else."

Jack frowned. He opened his mouth, closed it again...

"I believe the term ye be searchin for is _you're right,_" Barbossa drawled.

"All right, you're right, I hadn't thought of that," Jack conceded after a moment. "And it's a stupid mistake and I won't do it again." He didn't even have to say _But I still won't kill them - _Barbossa heard it easily anyhow.

"Jack..." he warned.

"You don't actually think Norrington'll beat us sometime, do you? Be serious, mate." Jack stepped closer. "Now let me handle the surrender, and I'll take the floor all week."

Barbossa considered. The single bed in the captains' cabin was an item of no small value... and besides, Jack was probably right that Norrington would never beat them anyway... "You'll take the floor for a _month_. And you'll also forego avengin yourself for that eye."

Jack scowled at him as best he could - Barbossa had hit him pretty hard in the course of their tussle and his eye was already swollen almost shut. He'd been looking forward to plotting some nasty prank in retaliation... He sighed. In the end, he supposed, men's lives were worth more than the right to slip a jellyfish into Barbossa's bathwater some morning. "Fine. It's a deal."

"Aye, deal," Barbossa agreed. "I still have a bad feelin about it, though. Listen here: if this _ever _comes back to haunt us, Jack... if we _ever _hit trouble because some Navy peacock remembers somethin some other Navy peacock watched us do... Jack, I'll take me dagger and I'll carve _Hector Is Always Right _into your backside. And _no_," he anticipated when Jack's mouth opened, "Ye still may not call me Hector."

* * *

In the end, Norrington's men sailed off alive (all but three who died fighting hand-to-hand and one who had taken an unfortunate chunk of biscuit right in the throat. They had decided to tell that one's wife that he'd fought splendidly and died of a quick painless bullet wound.)

They did _not _sail off clothed, because along with any cargo even remotely valuable, the pirates had stolen every thread of Navy garb on the ship. They would have an easier time approaching their next victim, Jack predicted, if they were flying Navy flags and dressed in soldiers' clothing. Barbossa heartily approved of this plan, and cut Jack's bedlessness from four weeks to three in appreciation.

It was possible, Jack knew, that Norrington had indeed learnt something of the pirates' preferred strategies for fighting a drawn-out sea battle, but on the other hand the Navy disguises he had stolen would certainly prove to be pretty valuable too. On the whole, he thought as he settled down uncomfortably on the floor that night with a cool rag pressed to his eye, it had been a good trade. He hoped.

* * *

TBC.

So it seems that I've been subconsciously placing THEN chapters in a way that kind of pertains to the action or maybe foreshadows future events. I wish I could take credit for doing that on purpose...

Thanks for your comments, everybody! Oriana8: questions are totally a good thing. Everyone who fears for Will: I wish I could tell you that your fears are unfounded... well, I suppose I _could_ tell you, but then, I could also tell you that the earth's flat and broccoli tastes good…


	6. Now! Barbossa needs his gun

**7/08: edits for length & style**

* * *

As usual, when Elizabeth vanished, the task of finding her fell to James Norrington.

He sat down and asked himself all the usual questions: Where had she gone? Likely she had gone off with pirates. How to confirm this guess? Speak to her best friend, of course. Conveniently, Elizabeth's best friend happened to be Norrington's wife, so when she denied knowing anything, Norrington knew her well enough to see that she was lying.

"Charlotte. I mean it – where is she?"

"I don't know."

"Charlotte."

"I _don't_!"

He took a step closer to her. "What _do _you know, then?" When she still didn't answer, he lost what remained of his temper and slapped the wall so hard his hand hurt. "Charlotte, I'm serious!"

"What are you going to do?" she challenged, hands on her hips. "Turn me in?"

He pressed his lips together and counted to three for patience. He usually found his wife incredibly easy to manage… providing, of course, that he did not become harsh and domineering. _Steady, James. This is all going to turn out fine. _"You know I would not do that," he told her more quietly. "And I know this mess isn't your fault and I'm sorry. But Elizabeth could be in danger, and if the Governor were to find out exactly _who_ is preventing a fruitful search – not to mention how awkward it would be for _me _– I guarantee something unpleasant would happen to you. Charlotte, please – you must tell me everything."

Charlotte sighed. "I don't know where she is. All I told her – and I do mean _all _– is that the _Black Pearl _hasn't left port all season. That's all I said. I didn't even tell her why."

Just as he'd feared. "Well, clearly she's found out why. She kidnapped a doctor and disappeared."

Charlotte clapped her hands delightedly. "Oh, good for her! I- I mean," she amended, pasting a shocked look on her face, "I can't believe she'd do something like that, James, can you?"

He heaved a sigh.

"James, I'm sorry! It's just, Elizabeth _cared _about that man… for some unfathomable reason… and she'd never forgive us if we'd known and hadn't told her. All I said was that the _Pearl _was still there, I swear, but I couldn't say _nothing_!"

He scowled at her. "That is the _last_ time we're going to Tortuga."

"You said that last time. Oh, don't tell me…" she interrupted when he opened his mouth to speak. "Let me guess: This time you mean it? Yes, I thought so. That's what you said last time, too." She stopped teasing and took his hands. "James, Elizabeth will be fine. Think about it."

A moment of thought told him that Elizabeth was probably not going to run any danger at all this time. But still. "You know, you're impossible," he murmured at last, feeling much less angry and much more weary. What he wouldn't give for an hour, even half an hour to burrow into bed beside her... "You're lucky I made such a mess of my life that nobody decent would have me." He ruined the whole effect of his lecture by reaching up to trace Charlotte's jaw with his finger. "Because otherwise I'd be someplace else, living with a wife who takes _care _of her husband instead of inventing new and ever more devious ways to make his life complicated and his work as difficult as possible…"

She smirked. "No, _you _are lucky that all of Port Royal knows I once worked in a dance hall," she corrected, "because otherwise, _I _could have married somebody decent, and then _I _would be in a much fancier drawing room, with a husband who worshipped the ground I walked on instead of bullying me and forcing me to tell secrets that belong to my friends!" They gave each other pretend glares for a moment, and then she threw her arms around him. "Can I come?"

"Certainly not," he answered at once, detaching her and holding her at arm's length. "Limits, Charlotte, remember? I'll take you to all the balls you want, to filthy Tortuga pubs even, but I don't trust Jack and I don't like the way he looks at you. And more importantly, it's _dangerous_."

She obviously had expected nothing else. "Tyrant," she pouted without force. "James, be careful at least, will you?"

"Aren't I always? Don't answer that," he added after a minute. He kissed her quickly and went back to the fort to start organizing the expedition.

* * *

Going after the _Black Pearl. _Again. It all seemed to be business as usual, until Governor Swann stopped by Norrington's office in a foul mood. "So what's the plan this time, James? Load the cannons with… I don't know… stockings, perhaps?"

"The biscuits were Sparrow's idea," Norrington protested for the millionth time. How many years would it take to live down that fiasco? "I merely followed suit because I thought it would be bad form to return his volley of breadcrumbs with an honest-to-God hail of cannonfire."

Swann took a few aggressive steps forward and slapped both hands flat on Norrington's desk. "This time it is not about _form _or _fun,_" he hissed loudly. "Or practice, or adventure, or whatever else you usually tell your men when you take them Sparrow-hunting. This time the pirates have gone too far - they have our _citizens _- and you are not to play games! Do you understand me?"

Surprised by the tirade, Norrington could only stare. "Er... yes?"

"Good. Because this time... this was not my idea, James; the order comes from elsewhere and my hands are tied. But this time..."

"This time what?"

"This time somebody will accompany you. Somebody with experience fighting pirates - _actually _fighting them, I might add..." He went to the door and opened it. Waiting just outside, head turned sideways so as to make no secret of the fact that he had been listening in, was…

"Mercer." Norrington tried not to let his lip curl.

"Hello, there, Commodore," Mercer said with a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Long time no see. I confess the wig's an improvement over that ratty mess you had last time..."

"This is your partner, James," said the Governor.

"It will be. A pleasure. To. Sail with you." Norrington sounded horribly stilted even to his own ears.

"I'm sure it will," Mercer agreed. "I'm sure we'll do a wonderful job. Luck's got to be on our side, anyway," he droned, making penetrating eye contact with Norrington throughout the whole speech, "…after all, you've certainly used up all _your_ bad luck already. Four failures in eight years, did I hear?"

"Nine," Norrington corrected through clenched teeth.

"Nine, my mistake. Four failures in _nine _years… well, a fifth would go beyond bad luck, wouldn't it? That would seem… not so much _unfortunate _as... _deliberate. Treasonous_, if you will. Don't you think?"

_Yes, lay it on thick, why don't you. _"I'm sure it won't be an issue," Norrington said coldly. "We'll catch them."

"Yes. And we'll hang the both of them, Sparrow _and _that awful character who did for Lord Beckett – God rest his soul." He said it smoothly but still Norrington's skin crawled at the sound of the G-word on Mercer's lips. Mercer grinned, having no trouble reading his new partner's reaction, then dipped a short bow and disappeared.

As Norrington made to leave the room as well, the Governor grabbed him by the arm. "James, I'm sorry," he whispered. "He's just back from England, he wants blood, and he has the authority to demand it. _Be careful_. And whatever you do, whatever those pirates get up to and whatever Mercer plans to try… do _not _let Elizabeth get caught in the crossfire."

"I'll protect her with my life," Norrington promised, then despite the gravity of the situation found himself smiling sheepishly. "Although to be perfectly honest, she'll probably do a better job protecting herself."

* * *

Elizabeth was trying not to hover. "How's that going?"

"Almost ready. I'm finding a vein in here. We pierce it and-"

"How is he?" Jack asked woozily.

"_He _is fine," Barbossa snapped from the bed. "You worry about yourself, Jack."

"This is incredible," the doctor muttered. "I can't believe he's still conscious. You must be some kind of medical record, Captain. Ah- there we go. Mrs. Turner, bring that over here. All right… now this… _here_…"

When the doctor inserted the business end of a large, fearsome metal article he called _syringe _into a cut on his patient's forearm, Elizabeth turned away. "Bucket," she gasped. Jack kicked one over to her and she was copiously sick into it.

"Bucket!" Jack squeaked right back, and was sick himself.

"Ooh, it's catching," Barbossa said brightly. "My turn next?"

"One can hope not." Bailey had Elizabeth take the bucket outside so that the smell wouldn't set anybody off again, and then explained to Jack: "It's perfectly normal for you to be sick; you've lost lots of blood very suddenly. And it looks like we're going to need a bit more. Stay conscious if you can; I'm not sure it's ethical to drain you otherwise."

Barbossa was still not out. "Jack, fall asleep and I'll kill ye."

"I fall asleep and you won't be killing anyone, mate," Jack growled. "But don't worry, I'm fine. Hallucinating perhaps, but not much more than usual." He blinked up at the fuzzy shape of the doctor looming over him. "Finish it up regardless," he ordered just before his eyes closed.

Elizabeth and the doctor looked at each other. "Well, you heard him," she said. "Come on - if my _father _could live through this then Jack certainly can. Just _do_ it, would you? We're wasting time."

In the end Bailey drew quite a bit more of Jack's blood. _After all_, he told himself, _the man consented and besides, considering he's a pirate under sentence of death, this won't lead to another murder charge no matter how it goes. Beg your pardon, Jack Sparrow!_

* * *

Barbossa awoke to the sounds of high activity outside. People talking, running around, dropping heavy things on the deck. It made his head ache. When he tried to move to pull the blanket over his head, pain flashed through his whole body and he remembered that he was shot, probably fatally, had had some lunatic sawbones poking around inside his guts and probably wasn't getting up any time soon.

Which begged the question: what the devil was going on outside? "I ordered quiet!" he bellowed, then groaned miserably. Apparently one should not attempt to shout at the top of one's lungs the morning after an abdominal surgery.

There was movement at the side of the bed. His instinct was to sit up and see what it was, but that turned out to be an even worse idea than shouting. "Who's there?"

"Shh, it's me, it's Elizabeth." From where he was lying, he could see her when she stood. She frowned. "I think you scared the crew. Stay right there, I'll be back."

He heard her cross to the door and open it. "Do what you can to keep the noise down, but carry on," she ordered. There was an awkward silence, and Barbossa could imagine her eyes sweeping over them, looking for backup. "Jack."

He could barely hear Jack's mumbled answer: "Aye. Barbossa's not well - she speaks for him til he's better."

"There, see?" she asked brightly. "Now, your captains may be somewhat weakened but the rest of you gentlemen most certainly are not. So let's keep loading, boys. Captain Barbossa is awake now and I think you'll want to sail sometime soon."

Barbossa waited until she had closed the door and sat down near his bed again before speaking. "What's going on?"

She saw in his face how much the words hurt. "I'll tell you, but you must promise not to speak any more. I mean it," she overrode as he opened his mouth again. "There's a lot of stitches inside you and if you pull them out things will be even worse than before." She frowned at him. "I can't believe you're trying to talk already; Dr. Bailey said you wouldn't even be awake for another twelve hours at least. Whatever Tia Dalma gave you must've been powerful. Oh - what?"

He was gesturing to his cheek.

"Your- oh. My face? The bruise? Yes, that's where you hit me when I tried to give you chloroform. As if you'd _want_ to be awake while somebody was sewing up bits of your insides!"

He was quiet for a moment. "Apologies."

"Accepted. Now, Captain, please, you must stop talking."

"I find meself disinclined," he said, barely above a whisper.

She thought for a moment, then headed for his desk. "Here - if you absolutely _must _communicate you can write to me. That is… _can _you write?"

He glared at her and snatched the pen. _I'm a pirate, not an idiot, _he scrawled.

Once she'd deciphered his chicken-scratch handwriting she answered him aloud. "Well all I've ever seen you write is your name - in blood - so you can't blame me for wondering."

_So now you know. _He showed her the note, then added: _Explane everything._

"Of course. Apparently, someone took exception to my kidnapping the doctor. Word around Tortuga is that the Navy's coming for us."

"So we're-"

She covered his mouth. "_No_. I mean it. You're not fit to speak, and if you say another word I'll gag you." A muffled growl issued from under her hand and she smirked at him. "And how exactly do you propose to stop me?"

She let him fumble around the bedding for a few seconds before sitting back and informing him: "Don't bother - I moved it."

She expected him to be annoyed but also amused at her foresight. Instead, there was nothing in his voice but ice-cold hatred when he whispered, "Give it back."

She was hurt and surprised but didn't back down. "No."

He changed tactics; gesturing weakly to his throat and beckoning her closer. She leaned in until her ear touched his lips. "Yes?"

"Give me back my gun," Barbossa whispered very slowly, "Or that doctor'll be doin another surgery today."

She pulled away a little, not understanding until she followed his eyes and saw that he had a firm handful of her clothes with one hand, and was holding a knife to her belly with the other.

"Stop it!" She tried to jerk back but his grip was much too tight. "What are you- Captain, let go of me, I mean it!" In real panic she shrieked "_Stop it_!"

He let go. For a moment there was silence save the agonized hiss of his breathing as he recovered from the mini-struggle. "That be a real shame," he got out eventually. "You didn't used to be afraid no matter what I did."

She smoothed her shift and sat back down. "Yes, well you didn't used to be angry and delirious," she answered. "He said you might wake up like that. That's why I took your gun away."

He grabbed her again, by the chin this time, and hauled her close. "Do I look delirious to you?" he growled.

"No – you're your charming old self as usual."

"Then I want me pistol back. Now."

She gave it to him with deep misgivings. He probably wouldn't shoot _her_, she reasoned, but he might very well shoot one of the crew members or himself or perhaps Jack if he got crotchety enough. And there was no _way _Dr. Bailey would go near him with a scalpel again until he was disarmed. But for now, she decided it was better for him to just have the blasted gun. At least then he would lie still and stop fussing.

"How'd it go?" he asked at last, much calmer now that he was armed.

"As well as could be expected. All the dirt and bits of bullet are gone, the worst rips in your guts are stitched up, and it looks like Jack's blood isn't going to kill you. How are you feeling?"

He grimaced and reached for the pen. _Awful, _he wrote. _Much worse than before yr friend started in on me. The noyse gives me a headache & I'm dizzy._

Without even realized it she'd started to pet him. "Oh, I'm sorry. But I'm going to take care of you, and you'll be fine, you're doing wonderfully and I'm so proud of you. I- _oh_!"

He surged up and swatted at her. She was caught off guard because being slapped was completely outside the realm of her expectations, but she still managed to duck and cover her head in time. "Ex_cuse _me! What was that for?" She sat up and lowered her arms and found herself staring down the barrel of his gun.

He just rolled his eyes, and sure enough the answer came to her on its own: She needed to stop treating him like Will or Willie before she got herself shot, because apparently kindness made him uncomfortable. So. How should she behave? What would would _he _do in her place? Well, for starters he would probably tease – cruelly – and then proceed to walk all over her while she couldn't protect herself.

So she trailed a finger down from her throat to her stomach. "Oh, come on, you're not really going to put a hole in _this, _are you?" She leaned a little closer. "Now, you put that pistol away, and you get some rest. Feel better. That's an order."

His eyebrows went up.

"You heard me: until you're up and about, _I _give the orders around here and _you _follow them. Are we clear?" He didn't shoot her and she found herself giggling, amazed that she was getting away with it. When he tried to write, she snatched his pen from his hand and wiggled it just out of his reach for a moment. "The first thing you're going to do when you can get up again is kill me, isn't it."

_Insolint baggage, I'll kill ye long before that, _he threatened, utterly comfortable with being kicked while he was down. _How dare y mock me! Fair warning: best watch yr back - ye shouldn't have given me that pistol._

"Oh, please," she laughed, delighted to have found a way of putting him in his element, "I'll just take it away from you again the next time you faint."

He growled but didn't try to speak aloud. _You're lucky I like ye._

A warm and fuzzy feeling surged up when she read that comment. She ordered herself to stay saucy but it was no good – however much they annoyed him, her maternal instincts simply could not be controlled. "Yes, and you're just _lucky_, period. Thank God." She came close and bent over him and kissed him on the forehead. "Believe it or not I really think you're going to be all right. Now rest."

She turned and left the cabin, and was mildly surprised not to hear the _click _of his pistol when her back was turned.

* * *

TBC. Sorry for this being a somewhat slow chapter. I just felt like B&E needed some time to get re-acquainted after so long. I promise we'll have plenty of wild action in chapters to come.

I'm thinking of posting two NOW chapters in a row… is that cheating? I'm excited to have some Liz/Jack interaction.


	7. Now! Elizabeth is kidnapped

A/N: I mean it! Review or people will get hurt. Clearly I'm capable of it; look what I did to Will and Barbossa and we're only at chapter 7. **(7/08 edited for length & style)**

* * *

Mercer enjoyed creeping up on the Commodore when he was in one of his thoughtful moods and scaring him half to death. It was easy when they were on deck and Norrington faced the railing, but for a real challenge, one night he slipped silently into the cabin at three AM while Norrington was up studying charts. He edged closer and closer and finally, from just beside the desk, asked: "How are the plans coming?" very loudly and cheerfully.

Norrington squeaked with surprise and made a move to cover his head, then stood up so that they were eye to eye. "Good evening to you too, Mercer. The plans are coming fine. We are going to find that ship, retrieve anybody who is held on it against his will, and convince Elizabeth to return home to her son. I don't much care to tangle with Jack and Barbossa if we can help it. My goal is to have this trip end without bloodshed."

"And here I thought we shared the same goal of bringing pirates to justice..."

Better that they had this out now. "I have hanged more than my fair share of pirates... but _justice_ for those two would be banishment to a circus, and you know it." Norrington lowered his voice. "This is to be a simple negotiation for the return of some prisoners and if you complicate it, so help me..."

"There's nothing _simple _about this," Mercer argued, bemused and not agitated in the slightest. "We're chasing after pirates who've between them killed and stolen more than anyone else in these waters. Ever."

"And we're in no danger from them, because I know how to deal with them. So-"

"Ah, beg pardon, I forgot to tell you..."

Norrington swallowed. "Tell me what?"

"We're in no danger from those pirates mostly because Mrs. Turner has them wrapped round her finger and can force them to do whatever she wishes."

"You can't count on Mrs. Turner's help. Mrs. Turner is _extremely_ unpredictable."

Mercer smiled peacefully. "Not this time, friend. You see, I've brought somebody along to make sure she _becomes_ predictable. A little boy. Her son."

* * *

When Elizabeth came out on deck, Tortuga was fading into the distance. "_What_?" she shrieked.

Jack was pale and so dizzy he could barely stay upright even leaning on the wheel, but that didn't save him from getting a patented Elizabeth Turner tongue-lashing that made his head pound. He murmured "Sorry" at appropriate places and waited for her to pause for breath before even attempting to get a word in edgewise.

Finally the opportune moment arose and he seized it and tried to speak. "Lizzie, I had no-"

"Don't you _dare _tell me you had no choice!" she shouted. "You had plenty of choices! You could have _asked _if I would come with you! You could have left us ashore where we belong! You-"

"What's going on here? Where are we going?"

Elizabeth and Jack both turned towards the interruption, registered that it was the doctor and thus not an immediate threat, and then proceeded to ignore it completely. "I cannot be_lieve _you kidnapped me!"

"I didn't-"

"You sailed away the ship I'm on while I was sleeping! That's kidnap!"

"Technically," Jack began, attempting to gesture but finding the effort too much after all the blood he had given up, "You were already awake when we cast off. If you were too busy in the cabin to notice, that's not my fault."

"Well it's not mine either," she retorted, "I was distracted trying to convince Barbossa not to _shoot _me."

Bailey stepped between them. "Beg pardon... Mrs. Turner... you said Captain Barbossa is _awake_?"

"Apparently so," Jack answered him, determined to allow Elizabeth to talk as little as possible. "Awake and back to his usual charming self."

"My words exactly," Elizabeth said, smiling a little as Bailey hurried off to go see for himself. Her fury had begun to fade, but nevertheless she squared up to Jack and stood tall. "You have to take us back to shore."

"Can't do it, love."

"But-"

"The men heard _Navy _and panicked. They wouldn't head for shore now if I paid them. We just need to get to open water where everyone feels safer."

"Fine." Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Then if you won't make port here, you'll take us home to Port Royal directly. It's an unexpected move and James won't see it coming and you won't have to worry about the bloody Navy... not that they ever manage to harm you much anyway. All right?"

Taking her to Port Royal would already mean a trip of a few days. And surely something else would come up between then and now to help keep her even longer…. "All right, darling, fair enough. To Port Royal it is."

She signaled for someone to come and take the wheel from him, then led him over to the railing. "Do you think he's going to make it, Jack?"

"Seemed pretty spirited this morning, didn't he?"

"Yes." There was silence again, and then she said, facing the ocean, "You know, it still feels like home here. You pirates really ruined me."

He smiled. "Apologies then. But… Lizzie… I'm honored that you feel at home on my ship. Honestly."

She wanted to lighten the mood by teasing that Barbossa would hardly approve of his calling it "_my_ ship," but before she could, Jack held out an arm to invite her in. She looked around. Nobody _seemed _to be watching… Mothering a grouchy and violent pirate all day had taken its toll on her, so against her better judgment she went to him and cuddled into his body, enjoying his warmth and the easy familiarity of his arm around her shoulders.

(_He _was enjoying the way leaning on her prevented him from falling down... but she didn't have to know that.)

They stood side by side for a bit, but eventually she nuzzled her head into his chest as the old tingling ran through her. "Jack…"

Feeling better immediately, he tightened his hold and started to chant, "Somebody can't resist me, somebody can't-"

"Jack!"

He spun her so that they were facing each other. "I know of only one way to get me to shut my mouth, love…"

For half a second she was scandalized. Then she was utterly disgusted with herself for feeling scandalized. What was next, for God's sake – a wig? Determine to overcome her pointless sense of embarrassment, she licked her lips and thought of something even more indecorous to answer him with: "That's strange… I seem to remember that you always did it with your mouth open."

"Is that so?" he cocked his head quickly enough to make his hair ornaments jingle. "Perhaps we should test the accuracy of that memory?" He pulled her in a little closer.

"Jack! I'm a ma-" she started reflexively, then broke off.

He knew at once what thought had made her pale. "Shhh, love, not now," he said, and put a finger to her lips. "We'll talk about William when the time's right. For now, you just enjoy the wind on your face and the spray of the sea."

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Jack - do all pirates read the same poetry or what?"

"Sorry?"

"That's word for word what Barbossa said to me once. Never mind." A moment later she said, "Jack, I really miss him. Will, I mean." She kept her gaze on the horizon and told him about it: "It's over a year now but I still can't actually believe it. He made me swear not to try for World's End again – it's too dangerous and he's worried for me and he doesn't want our son orphaned for his sake – I know his whole speech by heart and I _did _promise, but you know, I keep thinking…" She bit her lip. "Maybe someday. When Willie gets old enough not to need his mother so much..."

"Or, we could always… you know… take him out of the picture for you?" He pantomimed a throat-slitting with disquieting accuracy.

She whipped around to face him full on, and he held up his hands defensively. "Just a thought, love. In retrospect a bad one. That's what happens when I only drink two bottles today instead of six." He paused. "Like I said: enjoy the moment. There'll be plenty of time for sad reminiscing tomorrow. Or perhaps the next day... or the day after at the very latest. Savvy?"

He pulled her into his arms again and looked down at her, looking so serious and so concerned that she finally just snapped, "Oh, for God's sake, Jack, I'm not a snowflake or a flower and I'm not going to break and it's not as though we don't both know it's coming – just kiss me already!"

His eyebrows went up but all he said was, "Don't need to ask twice." He took her face in both hands and put his mouth on hers.

_See, I was right, _she thought while she was still capable of thinking, _he DOES keep his mouth open._

* * *

Oddly enough for a pirate, Jack was very gentle with her and pulled back after only a moment. "My God, you're at it again," he murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek. "You are the only girl I know who always, consistently, without fail, _every time_ tastes like tears." He stepped away and made a fishy kiss-face at her. "Tell the truth: am I _that_ bad?"

"Perhaps. I hardly remember – it's been so long." She'd meant to be lighthearted but she couldn't quite clear the fog from her voice.

"Once more, then?" he suggested, coming back to slip an arm around her waist. "For old times' sake."

She met him halfway and they were still a perfect fit. His lips seemed to know exactly what to do with hers, her shoulders snuggled comfortably into the circle of his arms and when he pulled her in closer, their legs arranged themselves into the convenient interlocking configuration that allows the greatest possible degree of intimacy between two people who still, for the moment, have on all their clothes.

* * *

They separated in a hurry when a shot rang out. The door to the captains' cabin burst open and Dr. Bailey threw himself to the deck and covered his head.

Jack's eyes moved over the door quickly, looking for the bullet hole. Ah - there. Far enough away from the poor man that Barbossa had either shot wide on purpose... or was so feverish he could no longer see straight.

Jack decided to hope it was the former. He waited until the doctor had cleared off to go sulk somewhere, then pulled Elizabeth back in for another kiss.

When they broke apart for the third time, Elizabeth had no idea how long it had taken. Her only clues were that it had passed from sunset to full dark, and her lips were as swollen as if someone had punched her in the mouth.

They were under the stairs outside the cabin now and Elizabeth vaguely remembered Jack dragging her there, growling "privacy" into her ear before he bit it.

"Our first kiss that hasn't ended in shackles," she noted with a little smile. But as he answered _mmm, _his hand shifted a little and she noticed that it was actually _inside _her bodice. "Jack!"

He pulled it out at once. "How'd that get there?" he demanded, sounding as aggrieved and surprised as she was.

Elizabeth's chest felt cold and she realized that he had had his hand on it for quite some time. "Bloody pirate," she muttered, putting her clothes to rights.

"Or not-so-bloody pirate, as the case may be." He touched the bandage on his forearm and smiled.

At once she forgave him his unthinkably forward behavior – one couldn't hold a delirious man responsible for his actions; it was a wonder he was still conscious at all. "You need rest," she said. "Go on – I'll keep an eye on everything and if there's trouble I'll wake the both of you."

"Your wish is my command, love," he answered. He reached up to touch her puffy lips, grinned, and disappeared into the cabin.

Elizabeth told herself that when he had recovered a little more from the bloodletting and had all his wits about him again, his behavior would improve. She found herself mostly (but not completely) glad.

* * *

Jack intended to sneak into the cabin without awakening his roommate, who by rights ought to be practically comatose by now. He slipped the door open and shut quietly and felt his way into the room.

"Night, Jack."

Barbossa sounded entirely lucid and his voice wasn't the least bit thickened with sleep.

"Oh, bugger, I didn't realize you were awake," Jack breathed. "I'm sorry, mate, I honestly am. I don't know what-"

"Leave it be, Jack - you're free to sheathe your sword wherever it pleases ye."

"Well I didn't... I mean of course but... I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. Anyway, we both know she doesn't have any real _feelings_ f-"

"I said leave it be!" he snapped, then sucked in his breath and waited a bit before trying to speak again. "I made you that promise and I _am _goin to be keepin it," he said, quietly but firmly, "Only I must admit you're not makin the whole thing very easy on me."

Jack mumbled more apologies and decided that it was out of the question to ask for the bed or any portion thereof. "Well, making it _easy _wasn't part of the deal. Giving you me blood was the only thing I promised, and believe me, mate, I performed like nobody's business." Head spinning, he settled down on the floor and suggested, "But I suppose if you want I could-"

"If you could just avoid takin your fill of her where I can actually _hear _ye, I'd be much obliged," Barbossa growled. "Now, it hurts to talk. Night, Jack."

"You know…"

"I know that when I say 'night, Jack,' that be your cue to stop yammerin." Jack could hear him moving around in the bed and began to get worried. "I'll give ye one last chance before I shoot." He cocked a pistol and repeated, "_Night, Jack."_

"Gnight mate," Jack answered quickly, their ritual for going on ten years now, and put his head on the floor.

A few minutes later Barbossa sighed and tossed him a pillow.

* * *

TBC.

Soon, although not just yet, we'll learn exactly what it is that Barbossa promised to Jack. The answer might be surprisin ye a bit but I promise it'll all work out in the end.


	8. Then! The knife fight

A/N: I wish I could stop myself from giving away surprises. But I can't. So the answer is _yes _there will be Davy and he will be very important. We'll see him soon. I would say the second or third chapter after this one.

**Post-accord, year five. **The Knife Fight.

* * *

"Are we done yet?" Barbossa projected perfect boredom with his tone, but he still circled carefully just out of range of Jack's blade.

Jack checked the stinging cut across his forearm. His fingers came away a little sticky, but the scratch was so shallow there was no blood yet. "Sorry, mate, not quite. Good try, though."

Barbossa sighed and passed his knife to his left hand. "This is gettin boring. Come on, Jack, let's see what you've got."

_Why, the arrogant bastard! _Jack thought. _Come on, mate, if you can't top him when he's lefty then that's just embarrassing._ Jack feinted high and dove in.

Barbossa spun aside, loving how easily Jack was baited. _Still a boy after all these years, _he thought as he tossed the knife back into his right hand to finish the fight.

He lunged forward with his empty left fist and Jack flinched and hastened to get his knife hand up to parry with. Barbossa caught his wrist and laughed gently, "You can't beat me, Jack." He brought his knife up to Jack's collar, ready to draw a bit of blood and end the fight.

"We've had this talk before," Jack reminded breathlessly. His eyes darted to the blade at his chest. "And I thought we've established that I can." He threw himself forward, onto the knife, twisting his body to open up a great gash across his own neck and shoulder.

Horrified, Barbossa just opened his hands and dropped everything. The knife landed at his feet and Jack stumbled off in a spray of blood to land several paces away.

"What-" Barbossa went down immediately to look over the damage.

Jack's mouth was wide open and his hands pressed flat to the ground at his sides. "Ow," he acknowledged, then looked over at Gibbs. "I win though. Don't I win, mate?"

"Win? But-" Gibbs scratched his head. "Well, technically, hmm... seems to me that cut'll need stitches or an iron..." It was the single rule of the knife fight challenge: first blood wins, but for safety's sake you can't inflict any damage too serious to heal on its own. Gibbs shrugged. "Seems Captain Barbossa forfeits, then, don't it? So I guess you _do _win, Jack."

Barbossa let go of him and jerked back. "You- you-"

"Did that on purpose? Just to beat you? Yeah." Jack sat up very carefully. He held out his hand for Barbossa to pull him to his feet, but didn't look surprised when Barbossa made no move to do it.

"That rule be there to _stop _us from bleedin out, idiot! Not to make us risk our lives over a stupid argument!"

"_This _argument is not stupid," Jack reminded. "If we botch the battle we're likely to get ourselves killed. So it's important we do it the right way... my way, as it were." He untied the sash from his waist to wrap around the cut. "Anyway, are you actually worried about me, or are you just upset that I made you lose?"

In fact, it was both. Barbossa was furious to have a textbook-perfect victory taken away just because his opponent happened to be a madman. He was also still reeling from the moment of terror he'd felt when he saw all that blood... but of course he wouldn't tell Jack that.

"You could have killed yourself!" Whoops. Apparently he _would _tell Jack that.

Jack shrugged, making pained little noises as he worked on controlling the bleeding. "Help me with this?" Barbossa gestured for one of the other pirates to do it, feeling much too annoyed at Jack to go near. Jack answered him, "Nah, not killed, mate, I know you too well: all threatening poking aside, you prefer the edge to the point when you actually -_mmm_- cut me. So I knew where you had the knife, I knew what would -_ah-_ happen. It's just a little scratch."

Barbossa crossed his arms. "A _little _scratch? Twas big enough to lose me the fight. You won't be gettin a drop of rum with those stitches, Jack Sparrow," he growled, tossing his head back to make his feather bounce. His voice dropped to its lowest and coldest register. "And I really do hope they hurt."

Jack laughed at him as he stomped off, then used his new, hard-won powers to arrange the upcoming battle. "We do it my way then: we attack tomorrow night under cover of the storm. It's going to work, mates, I promise. Now, let's go sew me up, shall we?"

Gibbs helped him to his feet. "Er... Captain... do we give you rum for that, or will you have to fight Captain Barbossa again first?"

* * *

TBC.

Moral of the story, kids: Jack may act bizarre but there is almost always a method to his madness. So for anyone wondering about last chapter's kiss…


	9. Now! Norrington spills his tea

A/N: C'mon, no fair putting the story on alerts and then never reviewing it!

Talk to me! It makes me excited and I update quicker.

This chapters starts a bit talky but gets into actiony stuff by the end. Next chapter, though, is allblood n guts. (Or, if I borrow something flashier from an Eminem song: _blood, guts, guns, cuts, knives, lives, wives, nuns, sluts_. We don't actually have any nuns, and Elizabeth isn't technically a wife anymore nor a slut, but you get the idea.)

* * *

Breakfast on the morning after the kiss was incredibly awkward. Elizabeth endured the strange vibes for as long as she could, but eventually lost patience and cornered Jack out on deck. "Can I talk to you?"

Jack backed away cautiously - she had that look on that women tended to have just before they slapped him. "Maybe?"

"What is going on?" she demanded, advancing on him while he edged backwards all the way from one end of the ship to the other.

"Beg pardon?"

"This morning there's something unusual between the two of you, Jack, and I very much hope it's not what I think it is!"

Jack collided with the wall of the captains' cabin and realized that he was trapped. "Well, I suppose that would depend on exactly _what _you think it is," he hedged, intimidated as ever by the sight of an enraged woman.

Elizabeth planted her hands against the wall on either side of his head to trap him. "Did you tell Barbossa about last night? Honestly: did you?"

Jack cringed even further away from her. "No?" he tried. She just pinned him with the Mama-Is-Omniscient look she had perfected on her son, and he was forced to add, "I didn't tell him... But apparently he, erm, heheardthewholething."

"Jack!"

"Well, what?" Jack asked defensively. It was true that he hadn't intended for them to be overheard, but in retrospect perhaps it was a good thing. In Jack's experience, Barbossa at his angriest was usually Barbossa at his best. "A little jealousy never hurt anyone. Especially him."

"Jealousy..." Elizabeth echoed. "So it was just to make him jealous? And here I thought it was because you'd wanted to kiss me. Thanks, Jack, I really appreciate-"

"I _did _want to kiss you," he interrupted, voice low and a little rough. "I still do. Maybe even... right... _now_." He grabbed her, spun her so that _she _was against the wall, and leaned in for the kill... but at the last second she turned away and all he got was a mouthful of hair. He blew the hair aside and was faced with a mouthful of ear, which he liked much better.

But she soon shoved him away entirely. "You put that tongue away before I bite it off," she said firmly. "I've made myself a promise that I won't be used as _leverage _this trip and I meant it. Now, I am going into that cabin, and you are not to follow me. Good day, Captain."

* * *

When Elizabeth came in and slammed the cabin door behind her, Barbossa took one look at her indignant expression and laughed aloud.

"Oh, very funny," she snapped. "So I suppose you heard that too?"

He shrugged. "If you're after privacy with Jack you'll be needin to go somewhere other than ten feet from where I'm sittin."

"Where you're _lying_," she corrected.

He pushed himself up carefully on his elbows and dragged himself up the wall. "Where I'm sitting."

She nodded at him, grudgingly conceding the point, and sat down by the bed. "Jack makes me so angry."

"You don't say," he whispered in mock awe. They both laughed a little, but then Barbossa winced.

"What?"

"Nothin. Tia's drink was good but not _that_ good - still hurts to talk."

"Well, then obviously stop talking!" she shook her head and sighed. "You really are an impossible patient. Listen: I'm going to get the doctor to come rinse out the wound and show me how to care for it."

"You?"

"Yes. We have to return Dr. Bailey to Port Royal, but _someone _will still have to take care of you. I've decided we'd be mad to leave it in Jack's hands, so..."

Eavesdropping through the cabin walls worked both ways. Jack stepped away with a smile and sauntered across the deck, with even more bounce in his step than usual so that he was practically dancing, totally oblivious to the looks the men were giving him.

* * *

Dr. Bailey was so upset that he said the whole thing in a single breath: "Mrs. Turner, I realize that there are woman midwives and woman nurses some places and because it was an emergency I allowed you to assist at the surgery but I _refuse _to allow you to care for a half-naked male patient on your own! Especially a pirate! Especially that one!" Ordinarily he would never raise his voice that way to a lady, except that this particular lady was reminding him more and more of a willful child in need of a chaperone.

"Especially a _pirate_?" repeated said pirate. "What's that sup-"

"Silence! Haven't I told you not to talk?" Bailey whirled on him. "Lie still! And don't- no I said _don't _draw a weapon!" He dove down and crouched behind the foot of the bed where Barbossa wouldn't be able to shoot him. "Now," Bailey said from the ground, "If you would please stop threatening violence, I'll offer a compromise: I'll explain to _Jack _how to care for-"

"Sorry, not good enough," Jack interrupted. "If you want to go home, mate, you'll just shut right up and teach Lizzie what she needs to know."

He rose slowly and looked from one pirate to the other and saw that they were serious. "So the only way to ransom myself is to compromise the daughter of a good friend? I'm not sure I can accept those terms, gentlemen."

"Compromise me?" Elizabeth laughed. She knew she was about to shock him again, and was finding it less disturbing and more funny each time. "Dr. Bailey, these are men with whom I've shared a cabin and a jail cell, who've fed me rum til I fell into a stupor, who've laced me into my bloody corset and cut me out of it... I think we're long past any worries about compromise. And that's not to mention the guns they're pointing at you, so just show me."

He rolled up his sleeves slowly, steeling himself to teach a _lady _how to lay hands on a _pirate _who was clearly not as oblivious to the currents between them as she was. "All-all right," he began, hardly able even to narrate the first steps. "First, you must... you must open the shirt, to... to expose the wound."

He almost choked on "expose" and Elizabeth fought down a giggle. "And the pants – do the pants stay on?" she asked innocently, placing her hand on Barbossa's hip to embarrass the doctor even further.

Bailey sputtered incoherently and swatted her hand away. All three pirates tried with varying degrees of success to keep a straight face.

* * *

Norrington had Willie Turner fetched up from the brig and brought to his cabin. He apologized for the kidnap and poured tea and sketched the situation out for him briefly in terms that a child would understand.

"And _so_," he finished up, "We are going to fetch back the poor doctor and your poor mother, who has no doubt done what she can for the pirates by now and can go back home."

"Do you mean to fight the pirates?"

"Mr. Mercer hopes to."

"Well, I hope we don't," Willie said with finality. "Mother says it's very dangerous to fight pirates."

"Yes, exactly," Norrington murmured, amazed that even a nine-year-old could see the truth where a professional like Mercer could not. "That's why _I_ propose we do not fight them. I intend to negotiate."

Willie's eyes grew wide. "Negotiate with pirates?" he repeated. "Oh, no - Mother says that's even worse."

"Aha - see!" Mercer popped out of the shadows from behind them and Norrington squeaked with surprise and spilled his tea all over himself. "Even the boy disagrees with you!"

More to spite Mercer than because he was actually convinced it was a good idea, Norrington grit his teeth and reiterated the orders: they would negotiate.

* * *

After the healthcare lesson was complete and the doctor left the cabin, Elizabeth stayed on by herself to keep Barbossa company. They'd barely been alone ten minutes when their attention was caught by a noisy argument just outside the door:

"Look, I know the food's awful, I know you all want a new pile of treasure, and I hate the monkey too, and I'll pass your complaints on but you can _not _see him," Jack's voice was an octave higher than normal and far too loud. "You'll just have to take my word that-"

He was drowned out by boos and roars and demands. The trouble sounded fairly serious to Elizabeth, but she turned to Barbossa to see what he thought.

"A mutiny in the making," he breathed. "We knew this crew was garbage - most of our old hands jumped ship at Tortuga and who but a half-wit wants to be hired by a ship that never leaves port? Each and every one of 'em be worthless. Navy or not we should never have set sail... I'll have to go out there."

"No!" Elizabeth thought fast. "The minute they see you they'll smell weakness and then there _will _be trouble. Here – I'll handle this. Stay as you are." She jumped up, bent over and mussed up her hair frantically. "Stay!" She grabbed the hat off Barbossa's head and made for the door. Just before she opened it, in one motion she tore her bodice open to the waist and jerked it down.

With a deep breath, she kicked open the door.

"_What on earth is going on here!" _With only a hat between her and the eyes of a lot of rowdy pirates, Elizabeth found that calm was impossible and there was no need to fake a shrill or furious tone - it all came out just fine on its own.

"How _dare _you disturb us!" she continued, pushing her messy hair out of her face with one hand and holding the hat over her heaving chest with the other. "The captain is _finally _well enough to spend a day with me, and then you cretins come thundering about like a pack of wild animals - spoiling the mood!" Not a single pirate managed to move or speak. Elizabeth remembered there was a pistol on the table by the door, and turned sideways to retrieve it. This gave everybody a view of her pirate brand, as well as proof that she _was _actually half-naked (but most of the pirates were too concerned with the latter to notice the brand.)

She pointed the gun at them. "The next man to interrupt us is going to be shot! Is that clear?"

In the silence that followed, everybody heard Barbossa perfectly: "Ten seconds, wench! Shut them up and get in here!"

"Coming!" she called into the cabin, then turned one last glare onto the men. "_Is that clear_?"

"Ten!"

They began to nod dumbly... without, she noticed, taking their eyes off that stupid feathered hat. Which had better _not _be see-through. "Nine!" Perhaps she ought to have checked first...

"Eight!"

"Coming!" she called again. "You can all see the captain," she declared, "when I am finished with him - and not a moment before!"

She turned around and flounced back into the cabin and slammed the door behind her.

"Sev-" The counting stopped abruptly.

The men began to laugh and eventually let out a loud raucous cheer. "See, boys?" Jack said, all smiles now. "He's fine, just like I told you. But it looks like we'll have to wait til later after all to see him, doesn't it?"

He was so relieved to have temporarily averted trouble, and the men were so distracted by the topless lady they had just seen, that nobody talked any more about rebellion just yet. And nobody noticed the sails on the horizon yet, either.

* * *

Elizabeth resumed her seat by the bed. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly, remembering that the doctor had specifically forbidden him from shouting. He nodded, but as his eyes were closed and his breathing sharp she didn't believe him.

He held out his hand and Elizabeth stared at it. A _pirate _wanting to hold hands?

When she didn't move fast enough for his taste, he opened his eyes. "Hat," he clarified, and beckoned for it.

Elizabeth answered "Oh- right, here, sorry," before she remembered _why _she had his hat clutched to her chest with both arms. She rolled her eyes at him and turned away to make sense of her ruined bodice. When that failed, she commandeered some of Jack's clothes from the wardrobe and somewhat self-consciously changed into them.

"I'll thank you to stifle any and all lewd comments," she said severely as she shimmied Jack's pants up her legs underneath her skirts. "And I refuse to believe that you can't help yourself. I'm not seventeen anymore, after all."

He pretended not to hear the change in her voice and refrained from making the obvious answer: _neither am I. _He waited while she put a shirt over the remains of her dress and then peeled the dress off from underneath. When she finally stepped out of it and turned around, he watched her expectantly.

"Well, what?" she finally snapped.

"You said you'd thank me to stow any and all lewd comments. Stowed they are, and I'm waiting."

She glared daggers at him. "_Thank you_. Satisfied?"

"Completely." He was fascinated by her obvious sore spot. Did she really worry that she'd lost any of her looks to age? And worse: did that mean she intended to go about fully clothed all the time? "You listen here, missie," he said firmly.

But before he could say anything, the door burst open.

"Bad news, mates," Jack said breathlessly. He registered the way they both sat up very straight all of a sudden. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No," they both said with finality.

It was a ridiculous answer given the tension in the room, but Jack had more important things on his mind than to needle them about how they spent their private time. "It's Norrington. Pretty much upon us. The men were -_ahem_- distracted by recent events, and neglected to take notice of his approach. So he's now here. What do you want to do?"

Barbossa blinked. "No time to run out the guns, sail circles around 'em and blast 'em to pieces?"

"Fraid not."

"Then white flag and parlay it is," Barbossa said after a moment. "If that doctor was worth comin after us for, he ought to be worth enough to trade for safe passage."

"Gotcha. You going to be all right in here?"

"Worry about yourself," Barbossa advised irritably. "I don't expect the crew to be turnin on me while the Navy's at our doorstep. And if they do I'll shoot them. Go. _Wait_!" he added as Jack headed for the door. "Take _both_ hostages with you, idiot."

"Oh- right. C'mon." Jack took Elizabeth roughly by the arm and dragged her along.

* * *

TBC.

Next chapter is mostly written, and it contains the bizarrest standoff you've ever read about. So far it looks like 4 major characters will be shot. I'll probably post it on Thursday. How's that for a Happy Thanksgiving?! ;o)

Talk to me!


	10. Now! Many people are shot

A/N: Happy turkey day. This chapter cannot be skimmed (by two men. You'll never make it out of the bay). Good luck following this truly bizarre negotiation...

* * *

Norrington faced the pirates from across the divide and wondered whether to suggest negotiations on his own ship or the _Pearl. _Mercer was standing next to him making humming noises, and Norrington finally snapped, "What?"

"Oh, nothing, Commodore, sir," Mercer assured him blandly, "it's just I'm singing a psalm for in case my soul were to meet God today. Because that's what will probably happen if we actually conduct our negotiations on a pirate ship - in the lair of the beast, as it were."

"Well _I _don't think it's safe to allow Jack Sparrow onto _our_ ship, for any reason," Norrington argued, fully prepared to argue with any course Mercer suggested. "We'll negotiate over there on the _Pearl_."

Mercer sighed. "I was hoping not to have to do this, Commodore," he said with well-feigned regret. "But if you won't be reasonable..." He drew his gun quite suddenly and put it to Norrington's temple. "Tell your men to put a plank across and invite the pirates, or I'll be forced to shoot you as a traitor because you're obviously in league with them," he said without raising his voice.

Norrington swallowed and told himself to be calm. As soon as the gun was lowered, his men would pounce on this lunatic and take him out. Mercer could hardly hold a gun the entire trip, could he?

"Gilette," Norrington said quietly, "Do as he says for now. I assure you I am not _in league _with the pirates, but it doesn't seem prudent to argue with an armed madman just this moment, when we've got a whole ship of them to contend with over there. Put a plank across and tell Sparrow he's to bring the civilians over at once."

Gilette passed the message to the pirates and Mercer laughed aloud at Sparrow's answer: Sparrow actually did come, without any guards whatsoever, with only one hostage: Elizabeth. "Easier than I thought," he muttered. "Bring up the boy - but don't show him off yet."

* * *

Elizabeth found the situation a little unsettling. "Hello, James," she said, for once glad to have Jack pressing up too close next to her. "Having a little trouble keeping order here, are we?"

Norrington's eyes darted sideways towards the gun at his head. "Not at all - whatever gave you that impression?" he asked with a perfect deadpan.

Jack coughed down a bit of laughter but Elizabeth felt it shiver through his ribs anyway. "This should be simple enough, mate," he said easily, addressing himself to Norrington and ignoring the gun. "For the moment your civilian's safe below deck, with a knife to his throat. What say you to this: we give him back to you, Elizabeth explains to you she'll be staying for a bit, of her own free will of course, and we sail off in opposite directions, eh? What say you to that?"

"Sorry, but you can't keep Elizabeth," Norrington said, just as easily. "She's got a son at home now, remember?"

Jack laughed again. "Is that so."

Elizabeth was not as observant as Jack and had not noticed the child on deck. "Why don't we ask _Elizabeth _if Jack can keep her?" she asked waspishly.

Mercer answered her: "Because Elizabeth will have to do as she's told, or I'll have Norrington's men execute the little half-pint over there." He gestured with his free hand. "Why don't you say hello to your mama, Willie."

Elizabeth saw him then, and gasped but Norrington beat her to speech. "My men," he said loudly, "Will not execute a child regardless of what you threaten to do to me."

It seemed to be true - none of the soldiers had yet drawn their guns - so Elizabeth smirked and drew a pistol of her own. She pointed it at Mercer, which was mildly difficult as he was standing half-behind Norrington, and said, "Threaten my son and I'll execute _you_, make no mistake about that."

Mercer laughed at her over Norrington's shoulder and dug his gun into the Commodore's head a little more firmly. "Come on now, dearie, let's not play this game. You're not going to shoot me at the cost of your friend here's life, we both know that."

Jack sighed. "All right - let's try to negotiate this so we don't have to execute _anybody, _shall weWhat do you want, mate? Beyond the doctor, I mean."

"You, Sparrow," Mercer said cheerfully. "I want you - or, if you're reluctant to give yourself up, I want your partner. Word is he's not long for this world anyway, so you've not got much to lose, have you? Just hand him over and we'll be on our way. We need to hang a pirate, see, and I suppose either of you would suffice. What'll it be?"

"Right. On second thought, perhaps somebody _does _need to be executed. Elizabeth, keep your gun on him, love," Jack said grimly. "I'll sort this out." He hurried over to her son and pried him from the soldiers who held him, then propelled him forward until they stood in Elizabeth's line of vision and then, to Elizabeth's intense surprise, put a gun to Willie's head. "Sorry, son."

"Willie?" Elizabeth's hand shook, and she steadied it with the other one. "What are you doing, Jack?"

"Shoot the bugger," Jack ordered. "Or I'll have to put a hole in the kid."

Mercer shifted on his feet. "Ignore him, Mrs. Turner - you know Sparrow won't shoot a child."

Elizabeth thought he was probably right, but then Jack took his gun from Willie's head and put the muzzle against the boy's palm. "This I _will _do," he said with calm certainty. "So unless you want your son to go through life with a hideous deformity, love, you'll have to do as I say."

Elizabeth's head spun. "Why don't _you _just shoot Mercer?"

"Because when Mercer gets shot he's going to kill Norrington, and I'd rather have the soldiers blame _you _for that than me," Jack explained. "I've grown to like not being executed." He glanced down at his hostage and told him brightly, "Oh, stop your crying - it's only a hand, after all. And there's a bright side: from now on you can cheat at hide-and-seek when they make you cover your eyes."

Willie cried harder.

But before Elizabeth could make a decision, someone _else _stepped up and pointed a gun at Willie. Elizabeth thought she was hallucinating. "Gilette?"

"Sparrow, put the gun down and step away from the boy," Gilette said clearly, "Or _I'll _shoot him, and then you'll have no leverage over anyone."

The pirate cocked his head. "Wouldn't it make more sense to threaten _me,_ rather than the person I'm already threatening? How many guns does the poor lad need aimed at him at once?"

"I can't threaten _you_," Gilette explained, "Because I don't actually _see _your friend Barbossa, and that means he's probably behind me somewhere and if I threatened you he'd shoot me. In fact, I'm surprised he hasn't shot me already."

Jack and Elizabeth did not think it prudent to say, _No, actually he's still inside the cabin on his deathbed, but I'm sure he'd be pleased to know he strikes fear into the hearts of Navy men even from a distance._

Elizabeth had not yet lowered her gun from Mercer. "Gilette, if you point that gun at my son for one more second, to hell with Mercer and I'll kill you instead, and that's a promise," she hissed.

"If you waste your shot on me, it'll calm Mercer down which will get the Commodore out of danger, and that's my duty," Gilette answered steadily.

Elizabeth tried to process that.

Norrington sighed. "Gilette, put down your gun - that's an order."

"But then-"

_"ENOUGH_!" Everyone jerked towards the noise, then with an effort returned their attention to the person they were supposed to be threatening.

"Finally," Jack muttered, relieved and only half-surprised.

"_I _will be the one handlin this mess from now on!" Captain Barbossa had crossed the divide and was on Norrington's deck, dressed, coming towards them slowly like a wolf making a leisurely examination of a herd of sheep (or a pirate with a hole in his guts trying to walk without collapsing, but he looked fierce enough that none of the people present came to this conclusion). He drew his pistol and then removed his hat, holding it in front of him so nobody could see where the gun was aimed at. "If things don't start going my way immediately," he warned, "I'm going to shoot one of you. I'm not tellin who. Course, once I fire, the rest of you idiots are all probably goin to start firing as well, but that doesn't concern me. I don't give a scurvy rat's carcass if the lot of ya live or die."

"Now, that's not very nice," Jack muttered. "Unfortunately," he added a little louder, "It's also probably true."

"Jack, leave the kid be," Barbossa ordered, "And put your gun on the peacock."

Jack turned to threaten Norrington.

"_Peacock_?" Norrington repeated indignantly.

Jacks shrugged. "Sorry, mate."

"And now," Barbossa continued, "Kill him unless the lesser peacock starts followin orders." He addressed himself to Gilette. "Quit pointin your gun at the whelp, and give it to him instead. You know how to fire a pistol, boy?"

"Yes, sir?" Willie sniffled uncertainly.

"Good. You go stand behind Mercer, and if you hear anybody gettin shot, you shoot Mercer too."

When that arrangement was complete, Barbossa felt like things were much more under control, until Mercer abruptly shoved Norrington aside and pointed his gun at Elizabeth instead. "Ain't that better, then, Captain? Now you and I can have a little-"

Barbossa came up to Elizabeth and put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. For a moment she thought she was being used as a human shield, but then felt something cold under her chin and discovered it was even worse.

"No, but _that_'s better," Barbossa said smoothly. "If the missie's to be shot - and I sincerely hope it don't come to that - it'll be by nobody's hand but mine."

That's when the firing started.

From behind Mercer, Willie couldn't see what was happening, but the fearsome pirate's words were crystal clear. _He's threatening my mother. _With perfect William Turner impulsiveness, Willie stepped out around his hostage and fired his gun in Barbossa's direction.

Barbossa hung onto Elizabeth and dove for the ground, but a second too late. The bullet missed him and hit her. Mercer's bullet, though, which he fired as soon as he heard the other, _did _hit Barbossa, although it had been aimed at Elizabeth.

Jack shifted his aim from Norrington to Mercer and let him have it. Gilette, who saw Jack fire and wrongly assumed it was Norrington he was shooting at, snatched the pistol from a shrieking Elizabeth and fired in Jack's direction. It missed, but Barbossa had registered only his intentions and shot him anyway.

Jack ducked and covered his head in case there was anyone whose pistol wasn't spent yet.

Norrington and Willie, the last men standing, exchanged looks of shock.

* * *

The general paralysis broke very quickly, especially since all the shot parties began writhing around and either wailing or bellowing.

Elizabeth was able to sit up, holding onto the side of her head while a sheet of blood poured from between her fingers. She looked around for Willie and he went to her immediately, crying for help from the nearby soldiers who still had not gotten over their surprise. Barbossa was _not _able to sit up, but Jack was on top of him in seconds, binding a nasty thigh wound in the hopes of avoiding the necessity of another blood donation.

Gilette was in a worse way – he'd been shot in the chest, and nothing Norrington could do seemed to help him breathe any easier.

Mercer was in an even worse way. He had also been shot in the chest (_Great minds think alike, _Barbossa chuckled to Jack later), but nobody seemed desperate to provide him with immediate help.

The doctor, suddenly a very valuable commodity, was fetched over from the _Pearl _and took charge of all the casualties. While he worked, Jack and Norrington sat down to discuss what ought to be done.

"We can't give up the sawbones," Jack said right away. "Looks like Elizabeth was only grazed, but poor Barbossa took a good one and Bailey's still trying to dig the bullet out."

"Captain Barbossa is no worse off than before," Norrington said haughtily, "because he wasn't supposed to be walking about _anyway. _But Gilette's lung is punctured and he's got bits of bone everywhere. _Poor _Barbossa was two inches off killing him for sure."

Jack scratched his head and then waved his hands around excitedly. "I've got it! We'll simply keep the doctor _and _your friend Gilette too! That way he'll be right where-"

"Absolutely not!"

"Then _you _take Barbossa, and you leave me yourself as a hostage in exchange, and then when-"

"Ludicrous."

"I don't suppose you'd let us _kill _Gilette?" Jack asked hopefully. "Sidestep the whole argument… no? All right, then, we could flip a coin for-"

"Sparrow!"

Jack stilled and made his real suggestion. "Then we sit here in a truce for a couple of days until one or the other of us no longer needs a doctor. Afterwards we go our separate ways. We sit here in _peace_."

Norrington sighed. It would be difficult to separate Elizabeth from Barbossa, and unthinkable to separate the doctor from Elizabeth, and Gilette needed the doctor so…

His pained expression said it all for him. Jack grinned and gave him a huge hug and said, "I knew you'd come around eventually, son!" Norrington winced at his horrible breath.

* * *

TBC.

I'll post again soon, definitely this weekend. Review!! And thanks to you guys who already do!

Next will probably be a THEN chapter about Davy… although I'm excited for the NOW where Barbossa and Willie are formally introduced (this chapter's hail of bullets hardly counts as an introduction). There's still a bit more Norrington but, apologies to any Norrie fans out there, I think he'll soon make an exit.


	11. Then! Davy Jones makes confession

**Davy Jones makes confession. - we don't have a date for this, because the years pretty much melt together for the sailors on the _Dutchman._**

Every so often, even Davy Jones needs to spill his guts a little.

* * *

Davy boarded the sinking ship and strode purposefully over to where her crew stood huddled in a shivering mass.

The captain threw himself at Davy's feet. "You've come for my crew... Oh, God, oh merciful Jesus you've saved us! Th-" The captain might have been about to say _thank you_, but he dissolved into sobs so loud that nothing could be made out. Davy waited patiently until he could continue. "Every storm of my life I prayed God with all my soul not to see your ship," the captain admitted through his tears. "And every night I said, deliver us, Lord, from the weather and the poxes and the pirates... and I said, and Lord, long as it pleases You, Lord, please keep the _Dutchman _away from me and my crew." As he recited the bedtime prayer he calmed down enough to be understood when he said, "And all those years you never troubled us, Davy Jones, and now in our hour of need here you are. I- I can't even find words to thank you."

Davy didn't bother to point out the absurdity of the belief that the _Dutchman _simultaneously doomed the men and rescued them. _Make up your mind, _he wanted to say. _Is the sight of me good news to a storm-tossed ship - or is it a death sentence? We can't have it both ways._ He didn't even really know the answer himself, having leaped into this magical contract all those years ago without bothering to ask any of the inconvenient little questions.

But there would be no point to that discussion and besides, considering the ship would go down any minute now it was best to hurry. "What are you asking for?" he said finally, all business.

The captain swallowed. "Take my men with you, please. Get them off this wreck before it goes under."

Davy felt a little let down. When the men begged to be taken it wasn't half so satisfying as when they were deeply torn and he got to tempt them one way or the other. "If I take them, they sign on with me," he informed the captain shortly, wanting to get this joyless recruitment over with as quickly as possible. "Servitude of a hundred years, is that understood? And they must each agree on their own - I take no man against his will."

The captain turned to his men. "Did you hear that, boys? Think it over, and be quick about it. Go with him if you want to live."

"And what about you, sir?" one of the men asked.

The captain looked around. "Have any of you decided already that you _don't _want to join Davy Jones's crew?"

Four or five men raised their hands. "In that case," the captain said heavily, "I'll be staying here. We'll go down with the ship."

One of the men lowered his hand and called over the wind, "Cap'n, if that's how it is then I'll join up. I won't force your hand, sir."

"Me, neither, Captain."

"Aye, or me."

The rescue had just become a lot more interesting for Davy. He watched the captain think through the implications. "Ridiculous, boys," the man said at last. "Don't change your mind just for-"

"Me mind's already changed, cap'n," one of them said firmly. "All of a sudden I remembered how I've _always _wanted to give up me soul and sign on with Davy Jones."

"Aye," laughed another. "An' me too! I mean it, sir, I'm signing on."

"I'll ask each man individually and you're first," Davy said to the captain. "You will serve with me or you will die here. Your answer?"

The captain locked eyes with him. "I... I won't leave the ship while men are still on it... but I don't want to force them to go if they'd rather not..."

No begging or arguing from this one, then. Davy respected the man for his matter-of-fact attitude. And he _did _recognize that it was a difficult situation... "The cruelest place you can be on a ship is the captain's cabin," Davy acknowledged quietly. At this unexpected show of sympathy, the captain cocked his head but didn't quite dare to ask any questions aloud. "I faced the same choice as any of my sailors," Davy explained, "but for the stakes. These men will each crew the _Dutchman_ for a hundred years. Me, eternity."

"You mean you can't...?" The captain asked, taking the conversation in stride, as though it were perfectly natural to listen to personal histories from the master of a ghost ship.

The crew had all (understandably) shrunk away from their terrifying visitor, giving the two captains a semblance of privacy. "I've never tried," Davy said flatly. "I've promised to sail the ship and sail it I have. You know the end of me would be the end for my crew… and for every foundering wreck that looks to the _Flying Dutchman _as their last hope." He shrugged. "More importantly I had a choice... a hard one, aye, but a _choice_... and this is what I chose. I won't try to welch on it now."

After a moment of reflection the captain drew his sword and offered Davy the hilt. "I honor you for that, Davy Jones, and I take your point. Duty's duty, isn't it. Give me half a tick to pray and then I'll follow your example - you know, I'll... I'll do what I have to do to give them the choice free and clear."

Davy glanced down at the sword and then back up to the captain's face. "Why-"

"My pistols are wet and I don't think I've the stomach to slit my own throat," he answered. "Will you do it for me?"

Davy's beard writhed as he took in the situation. "No," he said finally, with a smile that was twisted by more than his strange facial anatomy. "I don't think your men would be keen to sign on with the one who's just killed their beloved master. You'll have to do it yourself."

The captain took a deep breath. When his thoughts were finally in order, he sheathed his sword and drew a dagger instead. "You swear you'll take on all of my men who ask?"

This was not Davy's usual practice. "I will," he said, "But only because _I _honor _you _for what _you're_ doing."

The captain acknowledged that with a terse nod. He turned to his crew and said, "You can all choose freely. Just... pray for me, boys."

So as not to give them time to protest, he stabbed himself in the neck at once. It was such a poor job of throat-slitting that one of his men was obliged to kneel over him and finish the job, while Davy looked on with a peculiar sort of satisfaction on his face.

He had _liked _that man very much, and would have liked very much to invite him aboard for company. Davy felt the tingle of admiration and the dull ache of regret coursing through him, and, seeing as how emotions were relatively hard to come by these days, he relished them both pretty equally.

* * *

TBC.

Yep, a bit dark. Apologies. And as to my Davy being a bit sympathetic here… I could see him being this way under these circumstances, but I think if there'd been ladies around or any mention of them, he'd have been a lot less nice.

Thanks to all the nice people who dropped me a line! Next chappie we get some Barbossa just the way I like him: ruthless and tricky.


	12. Now: Willie plays a game

A/N: Since when do I say "making an exit" and you assume "being murdered?" Honestly, I would never! (wipes off dagger and slips it back into sleeve) A little trust here, people!

Davy rant: I like NazgulQueen's description of Davy - compassionate and cruel at the same time. I think he's not insensible to what other people are feeling... in fact he's incredibly perceptive and empathetic... it's just that instead of making him more sympathetic towards people, it just gives him a better idea of how best to torment them. I guess that's what makes him such a baddie in a way - I know I'm paraphrasing this from Silence of the Lambs but I can't find the exact quote - but it's that he can understand you completely, and _still _not wish you well. Kind of a creepy thought, isn't it?

* * *

The very next day, Elizabeth ran into the captain out on deck. The dirt on his pants suggested that he'd gotten there by crawling. "What are you doing out of bed?" she almost shrieked. "You've got new stitches in your stomach and that mess on your leg and you should _not_-" 

"_Arrrr." _At first he was too offended to form words. How dare she take that tone! What was he doing out of bed? He was cleaning up after _her _poxy little brat! Take a potshot at the captain, would he? 'Twas his prerogative, aye, but especially in these delicate times the crew could not be allowed to think that that sort of thing went unpunished. "There be a boy wanderin around here in need of a lesson," he growled to her after a moment, and watched her eyes grow wide. "Find him and send him in. Make sure everyone sees you do it."

She should have foreseen this. "Captain, it was a _mistake_, he's a _child_..."

He ignored her and opened the cabin door and dragged himself inside. She peeked in to see that the table had been cleared save for two pistols - one at either end.

_Pistols_?

But how many times had she sworn to Will that, all appearances to the contrary, Captain Barbossa was to be trusted? Besides, defying him when he had his mind set on teaching somebody a lesson would not likely achieve anything except _two _harrowing punishments instead of one, so she fetched her son and sent him into the cabin alone.

* * *

"I don't think we've been properly introduced, " Barbossa began. He stood up straight, respectful. "I'm Captain Barbossa." 

"Willie Turner, sir."

"William Turner the third, as I understand - and apparently as big a fool as William Turners the first and second. Sit down," he added irritably, jealous of the way the boy stood fidgeting from one foot to the other while _he _required the help of a wall to even _pretend _he was standing upright. Willie sat in front of one of the pistols. "Now we're going to play a game. Somethin of a test almost." He sat down opposite Willie, in front of the other gun. "You took a shot at me yesterday. It didn't kill me, so I'm givin ye a chance here to finish the job." He took two strips of cloth out of his pocket and tossed one over the table. "These be blindfolds. We put 'em on. We count to three. We fire. Understand?"

Apparently this was not a game Willie wanted to play. "But who says I meant to kill you? What if... what if I just made a mistake and I'm sorry?" he asked hopefully.

"If you fired without _meaning _to, you're naught but a panicky puppy... and I have no place for those here." His eyes flickered down to the pistol before him so the boy wouldn't miss his meaning. "Now, if ye don't shoot fast or true enough, you'll be killed. That's what you get for takin a shot at the captain. Course, ye might succeed, and that's what _I _get for underestimatin you. Fair's fair after all. Need help with that?" he added, when he realized Willie's shaking fingers weren't coming anywhere near achieving a knot in the blindfold.

The boy nodded and Barbossa went to him and tied the cloth securely over his eyes.

* * *

All of a sudden Willie was in a panic and he had no idea what to do except perhaps to shout _stop_, but his father had always said that a man does not beg and besides all of a sudden the knot was tight, time was up- 

Over the roaring in his ears he heard a chair scrape as the pirate sat down again. A moment later he heard: "All right, blindfolds are on. Now pick up your gun... cock it. Do ye know how- good. And now we count. We say one, two, and we fire on three."

Willie couldn't hear the counting very well because he was making whimpering noises without even realizing it. "One."

Whether or not men were supposed to beg he suddenly found himself gasping "Can we please not-"

"Two."

Willie grasped the gun with both hands, as dry sobs were making his shoulders hitch too much to hold it with one.

"Thr-"

Willie fired.

* * *

With the noise of the gun in his ears and debilitating terror threatening to rob him of consciousness entirely, it was a long moment before Willie realized that he was still alive. Not in pain. Not shot. Did that mean- "Captain?" He ripped off his blindfold and looked across the table and- 

Barbossa's chair was empty and Willie stared at it stupidly. _Click. _Cold metal touched his ear.

He jumped nearly out of his seat, but the captain got a handful of his hair and forced him back down again and tilted his head back roughly. The gun moved from his temple to his throat. "C-C-"

* * *

"Captain," Barbossa prompted, chuckling when the boy was unable to produce even a proper plea for mercy. "You don't know what you did wrong, do you?" He waited until the boy managed an answer through his crying - an infinitesimal shake of the head - and then ticked off the kid's mistakes, which were in fact pretty similar to the ones he'd made yesterday in accidentally shooting his own mother. 

"First: ye fired at a target ye could not see. Second: ye wasted your only shot so's to be helpless against an armed enemy…" He moved the gun a little and chuckled when Willie jumped. "And finally... you waited til _three._" He'd taken his own blindfold off before _one,_ just to be on the safe side. This _was _a pirate ship, after all. "Now a question. You'd best not get it wrong."

The boy choked on another sob and quieted down (except for his chattering teeth.)

"Do you think," Barbossa breathed into his face, "That I'd waste time explainin all this… if I meant to kill you?" He decocked his gun and stuck it into his belt. For a moment he stood snickering at the boy's look of shock, but then Willie started jerking and covering his mouth, and Barbossa had to run and fetch him a bucket (_run _only in a figurative sense; in actuality it was more like a combination of hopping and lurching).

Barbossa went around to his chair and sat back down. He slapped the table hard to get Willie's attention. "Enough – you're done. Shut your hole. Get over here."

* * *

When Elizabeth was finally allowed to come in and hear what had happened, her first instinct was to collect her son off Barbossa's lap (and she was not at all surprised that he seemed reluctant to go) and start shushing and soothing him herself. 

"He's fine," Barbossa assured her over Willie's head. "Lotta guts, not much brains... reminds me of Will. Perhaps brains'll come with age. Anyhow... so long as he starts mindin the things I told him, he's forgiven for takin that shot yesterday. You hear?" he addressed himself to Willie's back.

Willie nodded and started to struggle off of his mother's lap, apparently remembering that for the past two years he'd been _far _too old for laps.

"… Course if you _don't_ start mindin, next time I'll shoot you for real."

"Captain!" Elizabeth scolded.

Barbossa rolled his eyes and gestured to the wall behind him. "Oh, don't baby him. Take a look at that – the brat actually fired at me."

When Elizabeth saw the hole in the wall she was so furious she could hardly speak. _Real _bullets? The captain had set up a game involving _loaded _guns?

Later Jack was told the story, and his only question was: "That hole was already there, wasn't it?" But Barbossa wouldn't tell him one way or the other.

* * *

Two days later, still waiting on the doctor's word that it was safe for the ships to part ways, Jack and Elizabeth sat out on deck watching Barbossa coach Willie through a play swordfight with one of Norrington's men. 

"The two of you shouldn't even be out of the cabin," Elizabeth insisted for the umpteenth time. "Jack, if you give up any more blood _you're _going to be the one who needs a doctor."

"If _he _doesn't have to stay in bed, neither do I," Jack argued petulantly. "Besides, we're both sitting still. _Oh_- look."

Willie had just dodged by a particularly narrow margin, and Barbossa had plenty to say about it. The boy began trying to simultaneously fight and apologize, becoming more and more flustered. Elizabeth _tsk_ed. "The captain shouldn't do that - he'll only scare him."

"The boy's already terrified," Jack said. "As well as half in love. Much like some other people I could mention."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "_What? _I am _not _terrified - _or _half in love!"

"That's right, in your case it's more like _half_-terrified and _completely _in love," Jack agreed without taking his eyes off the sword lesson. "Heh - take a look at that. Papa's on his feet now, this won't be good..."

Worry for Willie (just barely) took precedence over Jack's teasing, so Elizabeth looked to see what was going on. Barbossa had risen and was dragging himself along the railing, advancing on the boy with his blade out. "-eyes off the person you're fighting! Ever!" he was shouting. "No matter _who _is yellin at ye! If that peacock were half a man he'd have cut ye a good one! Eyes! Here! On the enemy - on _me _- _I'm _the enemy now!"

Willie finally stood his ground and tried to cross blades, but the pirate's very first slash found its mark and cut across the boy's shin. Willie squealed and dropped his sword and clutched at his leg.

Elizabeth ran over, but before she actually interrupted she remembered how angry it made her when Will would step in for _her_. So she hung back and just asked as calmly as she could, "Are you all right, sweetheart?"

Barbossa answered for him. "_He's _fine - _I'm _the one about to scream." He turned to Willie's deposed sparring partner and ordered, "Clean him up and then for God's sake show him how to parry when it comes low. Because clearly nobody's taught him yet."

The soldier hurried to obey, too intimidated to resent taking orders from a pirate. Elizabeth went to help him.

Barbossa went to sit by Jack, cursing up a storm with every lurching step. When he sat down, Jack gave him a wink and said, "I know what you're up to."

"Do you now," Barbossa said politely, reluctant to match wits with Jack when all he wanted to do was cry or sniff some of the bloody doctor's bloody chloroform again.

"I've been wondering how you meant to keep that promise you made me," Jack continued. "You haven't been doing a damn thing about it til now. But now I see: you'll go for the boy first."

Barbossa shrugged. "The boy be a factor," he said neutrally, "And that's all I'll say." He frowned and guzzled some rum and then finally asked the question that had irritated him ever since the first transfusion. "Jack, I've agreed I'll marry Elizabeth. But will y'ever be explainin to me _why _you asked it? You could have had me promise _anything_..."

"Because apparently she likes to be married," Jack explained. "She won't stay with us unless she's married."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I've figgered that much for myself. I meant _why _did you want her stayin with us, if she's married to me so's you can't have her anyhow?"

"First of all, _look _at her!" Jack answered gruffly, then shrugged and gave a more serious answer. "I like her. You like her. I thought it would be fun to have her."

"And the _real _reason?" Barbossa pressed. He took another drink.

Jack sighed. "Leverage. D'you have any idea how impossible it is to deal with you, mate? There's not much to bribe or threaten you with. A wife would make excellent leverage."

Barbossa was still not entirely convinced. "And the _real _real reason?"

Jack wouldn't produce any more reasons. "Look, you don't have to rush things," he offered. "But get on it when you can."

"Aye."

* * *

When Elizabeth was finally finished cleaning and tying Willie's cut, she threw the bloody rag overboard and stared down in the water for a bit, watching it sink. She was _not _in love with Captain Barbossa! _Or _terrified of him. Not at all. 

Jack had a lot of nerve, saying that! Especially since _he _had been the only one kissing her thus far!

_Not _that she was upset about that. _Not _that she'd noticed something slightly unmedical about the care she'd been giving the captain lately. Not at all and how _dare _Jack bring it up! Was he jealous? What was he up to? After all, this was Jack and Jack was _always _up to something...

Eventually it was time to eat and this time she pried Willie from the captains and insisted that they eat by themselves for a change. Willie sulked the whole time.

When dinner was over he went straight back to do something piratey, and it was Elizabeth's turn to sulk. She decided to spend the night sleeping out on deck, in the hopes that come morning everyone would feel horribly guilty for not checking that the lady had a bed.

* * *

Morning came and nobody so much as _mentioned _her choice of lodgings (or lack thereof). 

Everyone was too busy celebrating Dr. Bailey's pronouncement that although the jury was still out on whether Mercer and Gilette would survive, the pirates were all healthy enough to have no further need of his services. It was thus time for the ships to say their goodbyes.

Elizabeth had decided to stay on with the pirates a little longer. "We'll bring her home when we're finished with her, mate," Jack assured Norrington with much suggestive winking. "Promise."

Norrington looked over his shoulder to make sure none of his men would hear this part. "Jack, I'm in trouble - I was told to bring back a head this time or risk my own. I was rather hoping Barbossa wouldn't pull through..."

"So you could go home with some heroic tale of how you rid the world of him yourself?"

"Precisely." Norrington shrugged. "But it seems he's going to be all right, so I've got a problem. Listen..." He took a deep breath and then said the rest in a rush before he could change his mind. "The Governor said it was you or me this time and I doubt it'll actually come to that but it might and if it does there's a possibility I may need a very fast lift out of Port Royal when you come to bring Elizabeth home."

"Huh. I see." Jack pretended to think about it, then gave up the act and just flashed him a huge smile. "Kills you to beg help of a pirate, doesn't it?" Norrington began to fume and finally Jack relented. "All right all _right _- I admit we've been chummy lately - if you need a spectacular rescue you can have one."

"Turning yourself in would do just as well..."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jack said seriously, and they both broke into smiles.

* * *

Elizabeth watched the ship sail away and was surprised to feel a total absence of regret. Of course Willie couldn't live on a pirate ship forever, but she saw no reason why they should have to go home immediately. There was nothing all that urgent or exciting in Port Royal these days anyway. Whereas _here_, on the other hand... 

As though on cue, somebody came up beside her and she tensed, expecting Jack and some effrontery he would term _pleasant surprise_.

But it was only Barbossa. She hadn't really spoken to him since Jack's teasing, and now that they were alone she found herself feeling a bit awkward. She looked him up and down and asked, "Shouldn't you be off resting, Captain?"

"No." He grinned at her and touched himself on the temple. "I like the... it suits you."

"What?" she reached up and discovered that the scrape on her head had started bleeding yet again. _Note to self: no more scalp wounds. Ever. _She wiped it off her face and then tried to wipe her hand on her shirt, hissing with irritation when it didn't really come clean.

Eventually she gave up and put both hands on the railing and looked out over the sea. "Well I'm glad you're doing better. I was worried."

"Mmm." He leaned backwards onto the railing, taking some of the weight off his leg, and stared off into the opposite direction. "Occupational hazard, miss. I'll be fine." He took her hand from the railing somewhat absently, and licked the blood off her fingers one by one. "I was thinkin today," he began once he'd released her. She was staring at him, and he looked surprised. "What?"

His look of confusion was so convincing that on any other day she would have let the matter drop, but Jack's teasing had put romance in her mind and so she found it impossible to believe that he was doing anything other than flirting with her. He was flirting with her, he must be. Back off or flirt back?

"Nothing," she said after a moment. "It's just... you've got a bit... right here..." she indicated the corner of her mouth and then bent in to lick his. Just before her tongue touched his skin she paused to get her nerve up, and he laughed against her jaw.

She never found out if she meant to kiss him or not, because the moment she brushed against his lips they were interrupted by a hard, grinding bump.

As though the ship had hit a reef…

* * *

TBC. Now, I know a lot of seemingly random things happened this chapter, but much will come together next time. Sorry for the cliffhanger! 

And it seems that with my usual level of correctness when I make predictions, I COMPLETELY misjudged Norrington's future role in the story. It seems he may be fairly important after all. Sorry to any Norrie haters out there!


	13. Now: Barbossa extracts a promise

A reef out here in the middle of the open ocean? Not bloody likely.

Jack was certain at first that he must have dozed off and had a nightmare. Just a nightmare, that's all, not real in the slightest. He had been lying here pretending to be asleep, watching with intense irritation as his best friend seemed to be falling in love despite all the very excellent precautions Jack had taken against it (what better way was there to kill a romance, after all, than to actually _order_ the parties to get together?). He had been sitting and watching this annoying spectacle and he must have fallen asleep.

That was the only explanation. He had fallen asleep and the bump was a nightmare.

Jack opened one eye slowly, keeping himself as relaxed as possible. He didn't want to panic anyone - after all, it was probably nothing.

But Gibbs - who had grown ever more drunk over the years and fat as well - was already on his feet. "Cap'n! Did you-"

"I think I might have." Jack sat up. If even _Gibbs _had gotten up for it, the problem was probably worth looking into. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinkin I know that bump." He sniffed hard. "And that smell. God on high... _IT'S THE KRAKEN!_"

Panic did not happen just yet. Instead, the younger pirates just exchanged glances and rolled their eyes at this new proof of how thoroughly Gibbs was losing his wits to age. Jack caught the look and found himself furious. "This is _not _a joke, this is _not _a test!" he barked suddenly. "He's right; we're in danger and there's not a moment to lose! It's the Kraken, the _Kraken, _are you people deaf?" He could feel a vibe of confusion and apprehension beginning, and thought chaos wouldn't be far behind...

But suddenly Barbossa materialized at his shoulder. "Shut up, the lot of you!" he bellowed. A hush fell over the pirates as Barbossa drew a pistol. "Everybody obeys Jack to the letter! And fast! First of you cockroaches I see without a fire under his ass gets it right between the eyes. Are we clear, gentlemen?"

Even the most naive of them did not think that _this_ captain was joking. Barbossa turned to Jack. "Go on."

By now, Jack had his thoughts in order and his voice steady. "Run out the guns. Load 'em all and hold fire for Barbossa's signal. We are about to tangle with the Kraken... yes, I said _Kraken. _Now you, you, and you two come here too." Jack singled out a few of his biggest, strongest men for the job he had in mind.

While the crew scurried to obey, Barbossa thought over what he knew of the _Pearl_'s last Kraken-fight. "Where's Will Turner when you need him," he muttered to himself.

Jack heard. "Right here," he said seriously, tapping himself on the temple. "On the way home from World's End, while you and Lizzie were off making eyes at each other or taking tea with Davy Jones or whatever you were doing, Will and I were talking strategy." Jack led his handpicked group down the hold to a gigantic wooden case that had sat untouched for near a decade. "He was a blacksmith, you know. We thought these up and a year later he had them made for me." They opened the lid.

Jack struggled to lift one of the heavy weapons on his own. It was a long, sturdy metal bar, sharp at the point, with several large hooked barbs jutting out along the shaft. Its butt end was welded to a huge pile of chain. Barbossa bent down for a better look. "What on earth..."

Jack began directing the men to take the weapons out one by one. "Both ends of the chain got spears on 'em," he explained quickly. "So we stick one end into one of the beastie's arms, and one into another, see? And then it's stuck together - tied up, like - or else it rips itself all to pieces trying to pull itself loose." He got a few of his gorilla-looking crewmen to carry the weapons upstairs and stand by the rail. The smell was getting worse. "Ready? As soon as the beastie's in skewering range you sink both those spears in." He paused and added, "Into different tentacles. Throw them one at a time," because he wasn't sure how bright these men actually were or weren't.

"Captain?" One of them whimpered. "What... what does it look like?"

"You'll see in a minute, son." Jack patted him on the shoulder. He took Gibbs aside and said quietly, out of Barbossa's hearing, If things start to go badly... well, there's the longboat. Tell Elizabeth I'll want my kiss first again, though."

"Jack!" Gibbs shook his head emphatically. "I've sent Elizabeth below with the kid. You've not done anything to Davy Jones - it can't be you it's after. This time we won't-"

"This time," Jack interrupted, "We know what we're up against. And better yet, the powder magazine is full."

* * *

In the meantime Barbossa had gone below deck to give a pep talk to the crew. "I'd like to hope that none of you are coward enough to sit here coverin your eyes whilst others be fightin your battles for you. Anybody man enough to fight the creature hand to hand will come upstairs with me." A few men were already making for the ladder. "Take a good look at 'em, the rest of you," Barbossa advised darkly, "Because they be all that's standin between you and a grisly death. If any of you care to prove you're worth the air you've been breathin, then get your filthy selves up there and fight beside 'em!" So many people volunteered that he had to tell some of them to stay behind with the guns.

"Atta way, gents," he approved, heading up the ladder with them. "I knew I'd be proud of ye." Honesty did not seem to be his strong suit today.

Come to think of it, he was rather short on strong suits of _any _kind today. When the Kraken bumped the ship again he lost his balance and almost fell down. He looked bad enough to make Jack grab his arm and speak _with complete seriousness. _"You should really be below deck, mate."

"I won't be leavin the savin of my hide to a pack of idiots who can't count to five between 'em. I'll give the signal to fire." Barbossa moved slowly towards the ladder so he could call down to the gunners. "Tell me when," he called to Jack, forbidding himself to black out in the midst of a battle. He gulped down half another bottle of grog, figuring that if he _had _to be useless, he'd rather owe it to being too drunk than to being in too much pain. _Everything's fine, _he lied firmly to himself. _Of course Jack knows what he's doing. _Lie. _And bed is for women. My place is here. I'm doing fine. I've had worse. _Lies, lies, all lies. _And it be naught but the Kraken, after all. _Hah!

* * *

The sea was churning. Fat pink shapes moved just below the surface.

The Kraken's tentacles at last broke water and began to move slowly up the side of the ship. "Wait for it," Jack called. "Wait... not yet... wait..."

Barbossa eventually lost patience and bellowed _FIRE_.

Jack took the time to make a face at him, and then found that he didn't even need to give the order for people to start throwing his pointy chained weapons; the cannons had startled them badly enough that they had started throwing on their own.

One pair of spears failed to connect. One pair landed halfway, with one side firmly set in squishy orange flesh and the other spear flapping around dangerously at the end of the long chain. The third set of Will's weapons, though, was a brilliant success. They were sunk deep into two different tentacles, and after a few futile attempts to jerk apart without hurting themselves, the tentacles disappeared forlornly beneath the surface of the water.

The guns had blown a few holes and made a lot of smoke and noise. The gunners began to reload, and in the meantime a fierce hand-to-tentacle battle began to rage on deck.

Jack's spearmen managed to get hold of the loose spear that was still chained to one of the Kraken's arms. They wedged it in the _Pearl's _anchor-chain and dropped anchor. The move didn't rip the tentacle clean off the way they were hoping, but it did tear out vast meaty chunks, shredding the arm to the point of uselessness.

Unfortunately, though, the Kraken had a lot of arms, and as some were injured the rest got angrier. At first the pirates tried to hold them off with swords and axes. It didn't work too well, and several pirates found themselves wrapped in pink coils and squeezed and popped like balloons. Fortunately Gibbs put an end to this. When _he _was squeezed he vomited up a huge quantity of half-digested grog, and then while the Kraken was shaking him around he had the good fortune to smash into a lantern. This set himself and the tentacle ablaze. The beastie let go, and though Gibbs lost most of his hair and clothes, he considered the tactic a success because he was alive and his imposing muttonchops had remained miraculously untouched.

So other pirates made use of this idea, dousing the beast with barrels of rum and setting fire to it bits at a time. They also managed to shackle one more pair of tentacles with the chained spears, but by then the Kraken was so enraged it yanked itself loose, fountaining blood and slime when the barbs tore free. The cannons went off again. A few more arms curled up in pain and went below the sea to nurse themselves...

But healthy arms took their place and the battle continued.

* * *

Jack finally ordered the cargo net loaded with powder and the longboat prepared. "Just in case," he assured Gibbs, who still claimed he wouldn't let the crew abandon ship. "Don't worry, mate, we're not done yet. We're doing fine, we might actually be winning-"

The deck of the _Pearl _was suddenly flooded by a massive wall of water. The ship rocked violently as though a storm had come up in the course of a single second, or... as though they were caught in the wake of another ship.

Jack blinked water out of his eyes and, ignoring the Kraken for the moment, rushed to the railing. It was the _Flying Dutchman _all right. So excited at the chance to get some answers, he just started waving his arms and shouting, "Davy! Davy Jones, hello!" even though there was no possible way for him to be heard over the cannons.

He found himself shoved aside. "I'll handle Davy," Barbossa growled in his ear. "You keep on with that monster."

There was no time to waste; the _Dutchman's _guns were coming out and in a minute the _Pearl _would be fighting both the ship and the Kraken. Barbossa flipped open his spyglass.

Immediately he found himself fighting for his life. Davy Jones was on top of him, strangling him with a number of slimy tentacles and crashing them both to the deck. Beyond curling up to protect his vulnerable spots, all Barbossa could do was snarl, "What- devilry... be this?"

"Stop it, stop them, _stop them or you're a dead man_!"

"Stop _who_?" Barbossa gasped. "Cnn- brr- breathe-"

"Them," Davy shouted, with a vague gesture at the battle. "Call off those pirates!" At that moment another explosion went off, amputating another tentacle. "By all the – _No_!"

Davy started to stand up but Barbossa took him by the beard to keep him still. "Worried for the beast, is that it? Hmm? We've every intention of stoppin as soon as _it _does. Davy: stow the _Dutchman_'s guns. And tell the beast to leave us be. Do it! Hurry, or we'll... look!" Barbossa pointed to where the pirates had captured one of the tentacles with several lassoes and were trying to hold it still while someone hacked at it with an axe.

Davy shook him off and scrambled to his feet (foot) and limped across the deck as fast as he could.

Barbossa followed, limping a good deal slower and cursing quieter but much more colorfully.

* * *

With a touch of his beard Davy quieted the Kraken, and the pirates in turn stopped all their various attacks on it.

Once things were still everyone came up on deck to find out what was going on.

Davy's explanation was short and to the point. "She was hungry! I told her to eat. How should I know why she chose your filthy ship? Maybe she liked the taste of you, though I can't imagine why, you murdering cowards!"

"Do you believe him?" Elizabeth murmured to Barbossa, trying to nudge her son behind her because he kept trying to peek out.

"Strangely enough, I do," answered Barbossa.

Still not convinced, Elizabeth elbowed Jack. "So this was all a coincidence?"

"Quite," Jack said shortly. But he couldn't help shooting a glare in the direction of little Willie and the blood-soaked bandage on his leg. Jack knew it should have occurred to him that the Kraken probably had a standing order to chow down on Will Turner whenever possible, and that the stupid kid's blood would therefore function as a dinner bell and now the _Pearl _was half in pieces and-.

Davy caught the look and was immediately suspicious. "Who's the boy?" he demanded, voice even harsher than usual.

Immediately all three pirates stepped between him and Willie. "Who, him? No one," Jack dismissed, unconvincingly.

"Our cabin boy; none of your affair," Barbossa snapped at the exact same moment.

"He's-" Elizabeth had also started to invent something, but when she heard both pirates begin to speak at once she held off.

The flat fishy eyes moved from Jack to Barbossa to Willie and finally came to rest on Elizabeth. "Who. Is. He?"

Elizabeth pushed her son squarely behind her and put her hands on her hips. "He's _not _no one," she declared defiantly, "And he _was _our cabin boy; but he has no one to look after him and I've adopted him. So forget about him, Davy, he's none of your business."

Several of the pirates began to mutter amongst themselves at her unwise aggressiveness. "What did you say?" Davy asked softly. "What was that… that you just said… to _me_?" He got very close to her but she wouldn't back away.

"I said, he's nobody to you and _he is none of your business,"_ she repeated.

Being heartless certainly had its upsides - Davy was able to put aside the appalling damage to his Kraken and think clearly. "Now, I admit you're a tough little thing," he said to Elizabeth, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "But I never thought you stupid. You'd stand between Davy Jones and his prey... aye perhaps. But for a cabin boy you just met? Not likely." He closed a wet hand around her arm and pulled her close. "I know I've told you I don't appreciate being lied to or having secrets kept from me. Now: answer the question."

Elizabeth glanced to Barbossa for help but before they could decide on an answer, Willie took the decision out of their hands. "My name is William Turner," he said, as firmly as he was able. He came out from behind Elizabeth and grabbed a pistol from Jack's belt before anyone thought to stop him. "This is my mother, and my father's charged me with protecting her. So... so you let go or... or I've already fired on two people in the last couple days and I have a clear shot now and I will shoot you too!"

It was hard to tell if Davy was amused. "Will you, now?"

"Yes?" Willie squeaked as the fearsome creature squatted down to eye level with him.

"You've got a lot of big words for such a tiny lad," Davy told him, ignoring whatever Elizabeth was trying to say above them. "Reminds me of your father. Whatever did happen to your father, boy?"

"H-he died a hero," Willie answered proudly. "And I'm going to grow up to be just like him."

Davy ignored that. "And how did your mother take it?"

Willie was old enough to know fake sympathy when he heard it. "My mother never cries," he said stubbornly, backing into her legs because he sensed that the monster was about to become dangerous.

Thank goodness there was another dangerous person aboard. "Let the boy be; we have to settle this," Captain Barbossa barked, efficiently taking the attention off the child. "Apparently this was all an accident, so what say you we forgive you the loss of half our poxy crew, and you get this _thing _off our deck, and you go your way and we go ours."

"_Thing_?" Davy repeated in disbelief. "You savages half-kill my poor Kraken, my pet who's served me faithful for more years than I can count, and then you say _thing _and ask to go your way?" The blowhole on the side of his face had closed up with his agitation and he was becoming more and more difficult to understand. "I should sink this ship."

"Davy-" Elizabeth started in.

Surrender was not among Barbossa's favorite games to play but he didn't think he had much choice. "If there be somethin you're after that would make it up, tell us."

"I should kill the lot of ya... starting with that _child_!" Judging by the manic thrashing of Davy's beard, it was a course he was angry enough to consider seriously. "They even look alike," he added half to himself, "It's like that filthy thief coming back to make faces at me from beyond the grave..."

"There'd be no sense to be killin him – and even _less _sense to be killin the rest of us."

"Aye, you're right. So how about this:" Davy locked eyes with him and clunked forward a step. "You near murdered my pet… so I'm taking yours in return."

Barbossa shook his head. "The monkey was lost to a storm six months ago."

Davy laughed darkly. "Oh, I know – I already have him." The horror on the pirate's face did wonders for Davy's mood, but Davy wasn't finished. "And that's not the pet I meant. I want _her_." He indicated Elizabeth with his claw but didn't even deign to look at her.

Barbossa toyed nervously with his earring. "Davy…"

"No? You'd rather lose every life aboard than-"

Jack interrupted. "Course not – but he _would_ rather make a deal that's more profitable for us _and _for you," he explained smoothly. "Try this one on for size: we give you the name of a doctor and where to find him." He went to Barbossa and began fussing with his coat. "Show him what the man did – see, Davy? Somebody who could put _that _mess right should have no trouble with your darling beastie, eh? In return you just leave us be. _And,_" he added when Davy started shaking his head, "In the meantime we will _lend _you Elizabeth, to keep you company until your slimy little friend is better."

"You'll _what_!" Elizabeth almost screamed. She looked over at Barbossa, fully expecting him to put his foot down.

But he had turned away from them and was closing up his shirt again and didn't say a word.

"C'mon, mate," Jack wheedled to his back. "You can't endanger the ship for a _girl_. And we'll probably get her back anyway… And besides, it's not like we have a choice…"

"Well?" Davy demanded.

Barbossa bowed his head and waved permission over his shoulder.

Jack turned his attention to Elizabeth. "Your son's on this ship," he reminded her quietly, "Which means you want her unsunk. Now, you say goodbye to the boy, and you go."

"You can't mean this!" she gasped as Davy slid a cold wet arm around her waist. "Jack, I swear I'll never forgive you, any of you… you'll really do this to me?"

"To save the rest of us?" Jack shot her a look. "Turnabout's fair play, isn't it?"

Davy held her tight to him and let his beard cascade down around her throat, smiling when everybody flinched. "So we have a deal?" he called to Barbossa, refusing to recognize Jack as any kind of authority. "You'll give up your girl?" In his opinion, Elizabeth's _never forgive you _had a lovely ring to it.

Barbossa was fully boxed in and knew it. Fortunately, though, he had plans of his own and this would fit in nicely... _if _he could pull a fast one on Davy Jones.

"One more condition and then I'll shake to it," Barbossa declared, turning to face them again. "If I'm giving up my girl I expect to be well paid in return." He stepped up to Willie and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Will Turner died before the score was settled twixt him and me. I want your permission to... to resolve things as I see fit."

Davy was puzzled. "I don't see how it's my-"

"_What_?"

"See?" Barbossa called over Elizabeth. "_This _be the condition, Davy: somebody'll be payin for what went on today… and not to mention I still owe Will for all that passed between us… and so I demand you leave me that child and you don't interfere with me – regardless of what sorts of persuasion, bets or bargaining Elizabeth might try."

Davy nodded. This was certainly his kind of arrangement! Elizabeth would hate her friends for selling her out. Barbossa would be so distraught at losing her he would slaughter the kid in some unimaginable manner, which in turn would make Elizabeth reject him forever and leave _everyone _in a state of perpetual grief. Grief that they had brought on themselves through stupidities they would probably repent of forever. Grief, grief, grief. Which, given the sacrilegious atrocities they had just perpetrated upon the magnificent awesome and completely unoffending Kraken, was only fair. Davy made a grand sort of bow. "You have my word I won't interfere."

"I can even things up with Will Turner _however I wish _and you won't try to stop me?" Barbossa pressed.

"However you wish." Jones glanced down at the boy and said in badly-imitated sympathy, "Such a pity he has to suffer in his father's place. Seems a fine young laddie. Never seen a drop of blood nor shed a tear, has he. Poor little innocent." He pinched Willie's cheek and was not surprised that the kid was too terrified to resist.

"Not for long," Barbossa snorted and gestured for his men to pry Willie from Elizabeth. "Jack, take him below."

"No – this – I don't understand-" Elizabeth sputtered, trying to take the captain aside while Jack scooped up her son and hauled him off.

"William Turner the first stuck me with _ten years _of misery," Barbossa barked, wanting to shut Elizabeth up before she gave away that something strange was going on. Trying to deceive Davy Jones was so nerve-wracking that he wanted to scream. "William Turner the second ran off with the wench I had me eye on! And now this whelp's gone and brought destruction down on my ship – and turned the wench against me all over again! I've had it with William bloody Turners! One of 'em is finally going to get what he deserves!"

Davy clacked his claw for silence. Entertaining as this little lovers' quarrel was, he wanted to hurry up and get help for the Kraken as soon as possible. "Very well: I can sink your ship when I choose. Your lives therefore belong to me and they'll be disposed of as I see fit. I'm giving the boy away as a gift. The others are free to go - providing, of course, that the Kraken lives. I'll want details on how to find a doctor who can help her. And no matter how soft I get on dear Mrs. Turner, I won't interfere when you pay back that silly boy for everything he did to you." Barbossa shook to it and Davy couldn't resist taunting him, "Well aren't you going to kiss her goodbye? I doubt she'll ever want to kiss you again after this."

Barbossa weighed the risks quickly. If Davy heard anything they would _really _be up a creek, so in the end he decided that (dramatic and appealing though the idea might be) it would be too chancy to fake a kiss and whisper _trust me_.

"Listen here, miss," he said, in full hearing of Davy and half the crew. There was no need to worry about tone or expression here; let Davy listen as hard as he wanted and all he would find was honesty. "I know apologies don't cover nothing, but I must say I know none of this be your fault and I'm sorry. I wish I could tell ye that I have somethin up my sleeve or that this'll all be for the best…" he shrugged. "A pirate's first duty, Elizabeth."

_To look out for yourself. _She was too numb to be bitter about it yet.

* * *

TBC.

(Whistles innocently.) What's Barbossa planning? Hum-de-dum, no idea, nope.

Review for me. I'll get the next chapter up soon-ish, I promise. Possibly Tuesday… unless I'm too busy watching DMC yippee!!


	14. Then: Jack handles everything

A/N: I am many states from home, working on my trusty memory stick on a horribly old computer on wordpad with no spellcheck. Now that's dedication for ya, eh? So review for me!!

**Post-accord, year four: Jack handles everything.**

* * *

Jack and Barbossa claimed to be equals and scrupulously upheld this image in front of the crew and each other. Secretly, though, at the beginning they both considered Jack a sort of junior partner, a sidekick, the boss's annoying son who couldn't be told to shut up at board meetings.

That didn't change until the fourth year of their co-captainship.

They were battling again with Norrington - who got cleverer and cleverer each time and thus was either lots of fun (Jack's opinion) or very dangerous (Barbossa's opinion) to fight. Things seemed to be going all right until Norrington got some men aboard the _Pearl _with special orders: they went aloft with some alcohol and pitch, and set fire to the ship's spectacular black sails.

"_NONONO Not good!_" Jack stopped what he was doing. "Everybody fix it! All hands! Stop the fighting, stop it! No, darling, it's all right, Jack's coming, love..." He poured a pail of water over his head and started climbing, oblivious to the bullets that followed after him.

Ten minutes later, with several of the pirates severely burned and none worse than Jack himself (he had resorted at times to smothering flames with his own body), the fires were out and the decks quiet.

Jack looked around. "Where'd those bloody soldiers go, I'm going to kill them," he growled.

"Captain Sparrow...? Captain, look."

Jack looked and noticed that the soldiers had all returned to their ship, which was easily within shouting distance. "Ey! Norrington, you're a dead man!" Jack shouted.

"Such a fast ship, the _Black Pearl," _Norrington scoffed. "Let's see you catch us now! I doubt you can get to us before we reach land... which is too bad, because look what we've got!"

Norrinton turned to his lieutenants and beckoned for something.

When he saw what it was, Jack grew immediately serious. "Bugger," he whispered.

* * *

When Barbossa regained consciousness he was on an enemy ship, on the ground and all tied up. A captive.

Aside from a few shipwide surrenders he'd endured in his youth, Barbossa had _never _been taken prisoner. Kidnapped, sure. Handed over as prize or hostage, aye. Tricked into a cell, yes... but only once and he would never forgive Jack for it. But as to being actually taken alive, grabbed up in the heat of battle and hauled off? Never. In his opinion, when a battle went poorly the men died and it was only the women who were dragged away kicking and screaming. This was beyond embarrassing.

He kept his mouth shut and ears open and soon realized that Norrington hoped to use him as bait to lure Jack and the _Pearl _into some kind of trap.

Now that was just insulting! He was nobody's bait, thank ye kindly, so when Norrington ordered him dragged forward to show to Jack, he pretended to be dead.

At first it was working. "Sorry, mates, I'm afraid you'll have to bury him yourself," Jack shouted after a disturbingly-long moment of silence. "It's not worth getting caught for that."

"Oh, for heaven's sake wake him up," Norrington snarled to his men.

They shook him but Barbossa didn't move. "He's pretending, sir."

"Well, make him _stop _pretending! Here, let me." Norrington drew a gun and fired it down into the water, then pressed it against the back of his prisoner's neck. Utterly unprepared for the burn, Barbossa jumped and swore at the top of his lungs.

Jack looked so relieved that for a minute Barbossa was afraid he really would take the bait. "Jack if you risk my ship for this so help me I'll kill you myself!" he bellowed across the water. "Don't you dare follow! Not in that ship!"

("Nope, sorry, mate, I don't follow," Jack murmured to himself. "Nope, not a word. Can't hear you. What was that? No idea. Oh, I guess you're saying to come rescue you, aren't you. Yep, that must be it.")

Norrington stepped up and leaned close to the prisoner's ear. "Listen, do you have any idea what you're saying?" he hissed. "If he _doesn't _follow, we're going to hang you. Not at Port Royal, where you have a chance - we're going to the nearest city we can find, someplace where you have no friends, and we'll just kill you! Do you understand?"

"No, in fact I don't," Barbossa snarled, knowing that it was undignified to struggle against the soldiers but finding himself totally unable to hold still. If there was one thing he couldn't stand it was to be manhandled. And in front of his crew no less! "I don't understand nothin! A pirate under sentence of hanging? Now that's a new one! It beggars the imagination, it really does!"

Norrington knew it was undignified to answer him, but he couldn't help himself. "Rail all you want, Captain. We've got you this time."

"Gloat all _you _want, Captain," Barbossa sneered, "While ye still have a tongue to do it with!" He lunged forward and Norrington jumped back and Barbossa's teeth missed him by inches.

"My God, get this creature below before somebody loses an eye." He drew his perfectly-balanced folded-steel sword and poked his prisoner with the tip. "And by 'somebody,' I mean _you_," he clarified. "Don't push me."

("Whatever he's saying, mate, take a breath, come on, Barbossa, you're a big boy, don't do anything stupid...")

Barbossa glanced down at the blade. "Seems to me I recognize that sword," he sneered, determined to cost Norrington at least his temper. "Tell me, did you trade the girl for it in advance, or was it more of a consolation prize Turner gave you after the fact?"

Norrington sucked his breath in and clocked his prisoner a good one with the the hilt. _I win, _Barbossa thought as the world greyed out.

("Like that.")

* * *

"Captain Barbossa?"

"Aye?" The pirate was sitting in the shadows in the far corner of the brig, chained loosely to the wall. Norrington was glad of that - by the flickering light of the lantern Barbossa looked even more sinister than usual, and it was giving Norrington goosebumps. "Care to come in?"

"Thanks but I think I'll stay here, _outside _the bars."

Barbossa shrugged. "Worth a try. So... what'd ye want?"

"Well, I- I mean, nothing specific really," he stammered. "Just, you know, I, I was just, well checking. Are... are you all right down here?"

A long pause. "I've been starved a lot longer'n a couple of days."

"Well, y-yes, I suppose I-"

"Then are you askin if I'm afeared of the dark?"

"Captain Barbossa, credit me with a _little _s-"

"Then what is it you _really _want? I'm a busy man, after all."

Norrington took a deep breath. "Frankly, I want to apologize," he said at last. "For... you know... for hanging you."

"Ah." Barbossa shrugged and settled back against the wall. "Well, hangin's an occupational hazard for me, we both know that." For a moment Norrington felt absurdly grateful to be absolved, but then the pirate spoiled it by adding mildly, "In much the same way as bein murdered in your sleep by a prisoner escaped from the brig be an occupational hazard for _you_, Commodore." His smile was pure angelic innocence.

"Not the wisest course you could take, Captain," Norrington said coldly, trying not to feel intimidated. "I've got orders to ask you about the location of your treasure stores and the future travel plans of the _Black Pearl. _I've got permission to ask pretty hard."

"Don't bother." Barbossa sounded bored and almost pitying. "I got nothin to say about Jack or our ship or our treasure."

"You understand what I'm getting at?" Norrington felt silly asking, but the pirate's utter failure to react to the suggestion of torture meant that there was probably a miscommunication somewhere.

Barbossa rolled his eyes and then got to his feet. "Listen here, boy," he drawled, "you have me word of honor I can take whatever you've the stomach to do to me and I still won't say a word. What say we don't make me prove it, hmm?"

"That's a bit bizarre of a request, don't you think?" Norrington asked after a moment. Then he looked him over and heaved a sigh. "Well I suppose if I believe you - and I do - then there's really no point to wasting our time."

Barbossa nodded at him and sat back down. "Thank ye."

"Don't mention it. And I don't mean that as a pleasantry, I mean _actually _don't mention it, or you'll get me into trouble."

"Understood."

Norrington leaned against the wall. "Do you think Jack's going to try a rescue?"

"He'd have a lot to answer for if he did," Barbossa growled. "He knows not to risk my ship."

"So... you're taking this awfully well..."

"Oh, it's far from over," Barbossa assured him. "There'd be no sense to try escapin this cell - where would I go? - but once we hit land... I may not have Jack's luck but I'm sure somethin'll come to mind."

"Yes, well, er... best of luck to you, Captain. In the meantime, is there anything I can get for you?"

"The keys?" he suggested, but Norrington only sighed. "Oh, very well. Rum, then. In case these be my last few nights alive, I want to spend 'em alone with me thoughts and an overwhelminly large bottle."

* * *

They hit land in a lovely but unfamiliar city. Barbossa was put in prison, and they decided to hold off a few days hanging him in the hopes that Jack would come for him and they'd get to hang two pirates instead of one. An _extremely_ sharp eye was kept for the _Pearl_, but she never showed up.

It was therefore surprising to Barbossa when one of his guards - uniform and keys and all - turned out to be Jack in disguise.

That alone would have been impressive. Barbossa had had his confidence sapped by the unpleasant experience of being locked up, and was therefore less stingy with his admiration than usual. The key turned, the door opened, and Barbossa felt a measure of real respect and gratitude.

But there was more. As they made their way through the fort - a much bigger and more labyrinthine structure than Port Royal's - they got lost and found themselves pursued and ran down a corridor which ended in a room with no exits save a huge, reinforced metal door. "Dead end," Jack panted.

Barbossa was trying to catch his breath and think at the same time. "Looks like an armory. We could barricade ourselves in."

"We'd be trapped," Jack argued.

Barbossa gave a wolfish grin that said very bad things about their chances of survival. "Aye but we'd take a goodly number with us. Could blow the whole place sky-high if we wanted."

Jack took the unusual step of assuming control. "No. There's a window up there. _Yes _I can see the bars," he anticipated, "But I still say it's our best hope. Listen - they're coming. Quick, get behind those barrels. Go!"

"But they'll be sure to look-"

Their faces were two inches apart. "Just do as I say," Jack breathed. He rushed for the armory door and blew the handle off with his pistol. He propped the door open with a little piece of wood, then came over to the barrels himself.

They waited til they heard soldiers pounding down the stairs. Jack threw a rock, knocked the support away, and the heavy door swung closed with a loud crash just as the soldiers spilled into the room.

"That way!" Having seen the door slam, the soldiers didn't give the rest of the place a second glance. They made for the door and tried to open it, but without a handle it wouldn't budge. "They must have barricaded themselves in the armory," one of them murmured. "We'll have to get leave to blow the door open."

The soldiers consulted with a superior, then set explosives by the door on a long fuse. The whole time, Jack and Barbossa were behind the barrels, hardly daring to breathe. Jack pantomimed slowly and silently: _me, powder. you, window. climb up and open the window. all right?_

Ordinarily Barbossa would never leave all the planning in Jack's hands, but Jack was handling things with a confidence that, for once, did not seem unfounded. So he just nodded.

Jack tugged on his bandana and then pointed to his pistol. He pantomimed turning a key in a lock.

For a moment Barbossa was confused. Then from nowhere: _tourniquet. He wants me to tie a tourniquet and bend the bars so's we can crawl through._ He nodded and unwrapped his sweat-soaked bandana from his head. This was clever and it would work - it had to.

As soon as the soldiers had cleared out to take cover, Jack ran to douse the fuse. Barbossa got up the wall, made a loop of the cloth around two of the rustiest bars and jammed his pistol in and started to crank it.

He had to make enough space to wriggle out of before the soldiers realized their explosion was not going to happen. It was a near thing but panic was giving him unusual strength and he knew he was going to make it. The bars bent with surprising ease.

He got himself through, dropped to the ground and hissed for Jack. Jack was crouched next to what remained of the fuse. He trimmed it to about half a minute's worth, then lit it. Barbossa gave him a hand scrambling through the window, but then Jack turned and stuck his head back in and shouted "Whoa! Look at this!"

The pirates got up and ran from the building and were almost far enough away when the explosives went off.

They went flying through the air and landed and dragged themselves up again. "Ten to one says those guards ran straight in to investigate when they heard me," Jack said, and whipped off his hat for a quick salute. "Blew em right to pieces, but it was them or us, mate."

Barbossa clapped him on the back. "Sometimes you're a genius, Jack."

"Hold that thought." Jack settled his hat back on his head and led the way from the fort. "Because here come some orders you're not going to like: we're not going to go back and steal a boat. It's too risky."

"Then how..."

"We're going to scale down the cliff over there and just swim for it?" Jack suggested apologetically. "I know you don't like it. I don't either."

While swimming out to sea seemed like a terrible idea, because he couldn't think of anything better Barbossa didn't argue.

* * *

"Jack…d'you actually think the _Pearl_'s coming?"

"We'll never know if we drown, now, will we?" Jack said doggedly. "Come on. Keep going, we're doing great."

Pessimism would get him nowhere, so Barbossa tried to see the bright side. "We're out of sight of land, at least, so that means we beat the hangin. Good for us."

* * *

"How far do you think the crew thought I meant?" Jack treaded water for a bit and scanned the horizon. "We're well out of sight of the fort. They should have come for us by now."

"Ten more minutes and then we're turnin around," Barbossa said decisively.

"Sounds like a plan, mate," Jack teased back. There was no way they would make it back to land now and even if they did, the cliffs were far too sheer to climb. If a boat didn't come for them soon, they both knew, it was all over.

* * *

"Look! Is that sails?"

Barbossa squinted at it. "No, idiot, that be naught but a bird and you know it. Jack..."

"_No._ You can't give up, I won't allow it. I'll call a dispute."

"A dispute?" Barbossa wasted precious breath laughing.

"Aye, a dispute," Jack repeated, laughing a little himself. "If you can't win me a coin toss right here, then, you've got no choice but to survive."

"Brilliant." A moment of silence. "Well," Barbossa said reasonably, "Even if that be a bird it's good news - maybe we can grab hold of it and float on it for a little while."

It was funny, but not too funny - they were so desperate they had already tried to use Jack's hat as a floatation device.

It hadn't worked.

* * *

"Jack, it's no good," Barbossa panted with certainty, some time later. He had already given up his coat and boots and shirt and sash and almost all of his precious accessories, including his heavy silver necklace (although not his gigantic earring), and was _still _unable to stay afloat. "I'm done. I really am. If you can go on, I wish luck to ye."

"No!" Jack swung around, treading water, and got close.

Too close. Too tempting. Barbossa flopped backwards, determined not to let himself grab ahold and drown Jack to win a few last minutes of life. "Get away!"

"Don't be-"

He shoved Jack, barked, "I won't drag you under!" and started to founder.

_Hell of a line to go out on, _Jack couldn't help thinking. But Barbossa was giving up, and great last words or not, Jack found it unacceptable.

"Wait!" he shouted. _Think of something. _"I love you!" He took advantage of the captain's moment of complete confusion to grab him. "Aha, gotcha," he gasped. "Now don't start fighting me or we're both finished. I mean it, mate. Come on." He tried not to waste energy laughing. "The look on your face…"

"Lovely. Now get rid of me and shove off," Barbossa advised even as he threw his arms around Jack's neck. He weighed a ton. Jack believed him when he said, "I got nothin, you fool."

"Well fortunately I'm fresh as a daisy," Jack gasped. "Just do as I say. I'm not letting go. Come on - on your back. We'll make it, both of us, I promise."

"I've said them same words to more wenches than I can count. And it's always a lie." Barbossa let himself be rolled over and dragged through the water. He went limp and just waited for Jack to wear out and die.

But when Jack finally did tire, long minutes later, instead of dying he breathed, "Your turn, mate." Barbossa found that he did feel a little better. He had stopped cramping. Even towing stupid Jack's stupid dead weight, he thought he could probably swim.

When the _Pearl _caught sight of them an hour later, Barbossa insisted on being hauled out first. "It's your fault we're still alive in the first place," he snarled.

Jack found himself too exhausted to argue.

* * *

TBC.

Credits for this chapter: Tourniquetting metal bars comes from Shanghai Noon. Sources tell me that yes it _does _work on the thin rusty bars that cover the window of a high-school bathroom, but I don't have any better information than that.

The next NOW chapter is fun. We get some Liz/Davy headbutting and we find out what bizarre plans everybody's concocted. I'll post it as soon as I can, but it might not be for a couple days because I'm a long way from home and the computers here are bizarro. Let me know what you think so far!!


	15. Now: Barbossa chooses a heading

When Barbossa finally lurched into the cabin after wrapping things up with Davy, Jack was sprawled out on the bed itching himself with a dagger. "Evenin, mate. Mind telling me what on earth you were thinking to-"

Barbossa didn't understand a word. "Jack I can't see-"

He started to collapse and Jack got him down on the bed and gave him just a little of one of the doctor's painkilling draughts... the good one, of course, the one that made you think you were swimming in a sea of gravy and light. Not that Jack had been sipping it when nobody was looking.

Barbossa was far gone enough this time to just drink what he was given, and not make his usual wild accusations that Jack was poisoning him. Instead, he just mumbled over and over again, "He _promised._ He did, he did swear. Heh, heh. Agreed."

"Promise what?" Jack finally asked. He shook Barbossa more fully awake. "Hello? Ahoy, Barbossa, this is Earth, how goes it? Whoohoo! Well? What did Davy promise?"

"That he won't stop us. And now that _she's _gone her silly promise doesn't matter either. Jack..." he was laughing. "Davy promised not to interfere. I'm a genius. I'll finally be settlin with Turner, with all of 'em Turners in fact, fair's fair after all... and besides there's always…" He realized he was raving and made an effort to make more sense. "The boy set me loose of a ten-year curse, and then I slit his throat," he explained carefully. "So I think I owe him at least a trip home from World's End... don't you?" Jack's look of shock made him laugh. "Set a course."

* * *

Davy didn't give his guest much time to brood alone. He ordered the ship to make for Port Royal - above water, for now, so he could spend time with Elizabeth instead of locking her away in the dry room - and then had her brought to his cabin. He held a chair out for her and she sat down warily. "It's good to see you again, Elizabeth." When he saw from her posture that she had no intention of engaging him in a conversation, he suggested instead, "How about a game to pass the time?"

"For what stakes?" She was immediately on her guard.

But he only laughed. "None at all," he said generously, though even _he _could hear the ominous undertone to it. "What's a little game of cards between old friends?"

"Cards - not dice?"

"We'll save the dice for when you _are _ready to make a wager."

"Sounds fair." She swallowed. "I _am _going to have to bargain with you, you know. Captain Barbossa neglected to inform you that this doctor he promised you is a very dear friend of mine. A man who's saved my life as well as his. I must insist you return him safely to Port Royal when you're finished with him."

"Oh?" Davy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But no worries for that boy of yours?"

She was quick to assure him, "I don't know any more than you do, Davy." Then she sighed. "I _hope _the captain was just putting on a show for his crew - they've been unmanageable lately, and the colder he looks the easier a time he has with them." She took the hand she had been dealt and looked calmly over her cards.

Davy held up his own cards so that his beard could begin putting them in order. "I don't think it was a show. I think you've finally driven him mad with jealousy. Men in love will do _anything_..."

"Love?" she snorted. "The man marooned me on a desert island – with Jack Sparrow no less – and I doubt you could make a case for that as anything but complete indifference. Davy, you see doomed love everywhere."

How dare she take that tone! "And _you _see everywhere a happy ending!" He slapped down a jack, the wrong card to play but just wanting to see her top it with a queen to prove him right about the cursed power of womankind. "And who's right?" he pressed when she did indeed play the queen. "How did things end up for _you, _Mrs. Turner?"

Elizabeth abruptly lost her cool and threw her cards across the table at him. "I've never taunted you about your love - how dare you tease me about mine!"

He found the pain in her voice strangely calming. "Tell me what happened to him."

Even though she thought it so cliché as to be almost embarrassing, Elizabeth told the story. A summer day, a dry spell, a fire. A house - with children inside, of course. Four men on the scene who risked themselves to help... but only one who dared climb to the doomed second story for a little girl too terrified to jump from the window.

In the end the girl had survived the jump cradled in Will's arms - and Will had died right there on the ground, all burned and contorted. Elizabeth hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. She'd been told that his last words were that he loved her - and that her duty was to take care of their son and remember her promise.

When Elizabeth finished talking she was in tears. Everyone in Port Royal knew the story and the pirates had not asked to hear it, so it was the first time she'd ever actually had to recount it in all its detail. Davy, of course, was something less than sympathetic. "I can't pretend it surprises me," he said finally. A combination of curiosity and meanness made him continue: "So... what promise did he mean? To love him forever? Or to forget him, and find another to take care of y-"

"To never seek him at World's End," she sniffed. "Even from the grave he's trying to protect me."

"Wise of him." Davy's tentacles had finished gathering up the cards and he began to deal them again. "Remember what I said I'd do to you the next time I caught any of you at World's End?"

Elizabeth picked up her cards and started to organize them. "I don't think you said, exactly," she murmured, "But the impression I got was that it would not be anything pleasant. I suspect you meant to feed us to your beastie. Fortunately it won't be an issue, since I intend to keep my promise to Will." Finally her hand was in order and she looked up. "Shall I start or will y-... Davy?"

Davy had frozen solid, wearing a frown of deep concentration. Even his beard had stopped sorting cards and was stroking itself thoughtfully. Finally he looked up and began to laugh. Elizabeth began to have a very bad feeling about it. "Well, well, well." This time _he _threw down his handful of cards, then leaned back in his chair and slapped his claw on the table. "It looks like we've found ourselves a case of doomed love after all."

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth was completely puzzled.

He sounded simultaneously angry and triumphant as he explained: "As I said, Mrs. Turner, a man in love will do _anything _for his lady. Now... _you _made a promise not to sail to the ends of the world for your husband... but your besotted friend Barbossa made no such promise. Did he?"

It was some time before she could breathe again. "No," she whispered finally. "No, he did not."

* * *

To Norrington's deep dismay, the doctor proclaimed that Mercer was probably going to live. Gilette's fate was still uncertain, and this troubled the Commodore so much that he took no steps whatsoever to minimize the whole incident's damage to his own reputation.

When Norrington brought the ship into Port Royal, after sleepless nights of worrying and sick with the knowledge of his imminent disgrace, he told the Governor simply that Elizabeth had decided to stay with the _Pearl_, and that other than the disastrous shootout, he had put up no fight at all and had allowed the pirates to sail off unmolested.

"This is the last straw, James," was all the Governor said. "It's to be a court-martial."

"As you wish," he answered wearily.

That night his wife could hardly master her sense of outrage enough to form sentences. "As- as if it was _your _fault! What does- I mean, what… what's _his _grand plan, then? Well? How does he expect to get Elizabeth home - _without _losing another half-dozen ships to the _Pearl_? James he must know - everybody knows, dear you're the only one to come out alive after-"

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it. They think I'm in league. As to how they plan to get Elizabeth home..." he shrugged and took the highly unusual step of uncorking himself a bottle of rum and chugging at it. "I have -_glug, glug- _no idea and I'll soon probably be too -_glug-_ hanged to help with it, won't I." He flashed her a smile that made her wince. Glug, glug, glug.

She let him drink himself unconscious for now, judging that there would be time enough to solve this in the morning.

* * *

Elizabeth sat on deck, slouched indecorously on a moldy crate with her legs dangling over the sides. "Davy..." she began, then trailed off.

It was at least the tenth time she'd done that in the last hour, and he was losing his patience. "Oh, just spit it out already!" he growled at last.

"Do you... do you really think... ?" She didn't even need to finish the question.

Davy hated to be the bearer of good news, so he phrased the truth as discouragingly as possible: "Do I think the _Pearl _is sailing for World's End? I do. But will she reach it? Will they find the boy? Will they make it out alive, and most importantly, will they survive _me_ afterwards? I couldn't say." He turned to her and put a hand on her shoulder that was almost gentle. "Even if I allow the broadest possible definition of _evening the score _with Will," he explained slowly, "And I won't... but even then, even if I allow him to be sent home safely, you realize I'm going to have to kill Sparrow and Barbossa for this? I can't have people playing tricks on me and getting away with it."

Elizabeth gaped stupidly but couldn't yet find anything to say.

"Oh, and I can't let _you _live, either," Davy continued. "It would make _that boy _too happy."

"Don't do this, Davy." Elizabeth peeled his hand from her arm (wincing only a little at the squelching sound it made) and held it in both her own. "We've always gotten along, you and I… and I _refuse_ to believe we can't come to an arrangement now."

Despite himself he was swayed - just a little - by the warm pressure of her hands. "I promised Barbossa I wouldn't deal with you," he reminded.

She thought she detected an element of teasing in his tone. "You promised Barbossa that you wouldn't interfere with him _whether or not _I tried to deal with you," she corrected archly. "Don't tell me you don't remember the terms of your own bargain. You of all people."

He _plurrp_ed thoughtfully and pursed his lips. "All right - perhaps I could _think_ about negotiating for your life... but if my Kraken dies, I promise you I will not be in the mood." He pulled his hand free so as to concentrate better. "So. This brings us to the next question: how we're going to collect that doctor without bringing the navy down on our heads."

She grimaced. "Dare I hope that that _we _was a slip of the tongue?"

He patted her on the head, grinning when it left strands of slime in her hair. "Hope all you like," he invited, "So long as you take your orders like a good sailor. Now: I can't go ashore, so you'll have to manage this alone. Your friend the Commodore is still in command, is he not? You know him. Find what's dearest to him, and take it hostage. Leave him a note saying he's forbidden to follow us or he'll never see the hostage again. That will solve that."

_How dare you talk about kidnapping Charlotte _was on the tip of her tongue, but Elizabeth reminded herself not to do anything _stupid_. Now was not the time to stand up and fight. Was she perhaps turning into Will? It was time to play along with the mad squidman until she figured out a plan. She nodded resolutely. "Aye, Captain."

* * *

Norrington was awakened by the wet slap of a seaweedy hand over his face. His first thought was a swear word and his second was for Charlotte. He turned to her and blinked into the darkness and finally saw-

That she was already awake, seemingly unharmed, but pinned down and silenced by a creature he recognized immediately as one of Davy Jones's crew.

Somebody spoke from the shadows. "Charlotte, James, please keep quiet. I'll have them let go of you but you have to be quiet."

Norrington stopped struggling and was released right away. The first thing he did was turn and throw up over the side of the bed.

"Poor thing's drunk as... well, as a sailor," Charlotte clucked. "Elizabeth, you're choosing your friends more and more oddly these days... Hello, boys. It's been a long time."

Only one of them seemed to have the power of speech. "I remember you. There was a party on our ship and you were there. Back then I had... both eyes and... and maybe both hands too."

"Fascinating," Norrington interrupted, wiping his mouth. "Elizabeth, what in God's name are you doing?"

She explained with perfect calm: "Just kidnapping a few people. I've taken Dr. Bailey again, and this time, I'm afraid I'm also taking your wife." She handed him a note. "This will explain everything. Burn it when it's read. Charlotte... pack some clothes, dear, pants if you have them and something warm because it's bloody freezing on the _Dutchman _at night. We're leaving."

Norrington started to leap out of bed but two fish-people shoved him back down. "Elizabeth-"

"James, they _will _use violence. Just sit and read your note."

He fumbled around lighting a candle while his wife hurried to put together a bundle of things to travel with. He was not quite too blitzed to read, although it did take him several moments to get his eyes to focus. _I'm double-crossing Davy, _the note read, _to protect Jack and Barbossa. I need your cooperation - hence the hostage. Your orders: follow the _Dutchman. _Start for Isla Cruces, and I will see to it that the _Dutchman _leaves a clear trail from there. When Davy catches the _Pearl _there will be a fight, and you must join in to help the _Pearl _win. Are we clear? No mistakes. This is obviously a secret - we can't let Davy find out you're coming._

The words and ideas swum in and out of his fuzzy head for a few moments, but he finally thought he understood. His eyes fell on the words _double-crossing Davy _and he set fire to the note right away. "You know I don't have command of a ship right now?" he mumbled. "In fact, I may soon be under sentence of death myself-"

"Then you really have nothing to lose, do you?" Elizabeth snapped. "I've spoken to my father. You'll have what authority you need." All of a sudden she looked like she might cry. "James I don't-"

Norrington was finally allowed to get up out of bed. "All right, all right," he murmured, drunk enough to forget that Elizabeth did not belong to him and thus her distress should be someobdy else's problem. Fishy smell notwithstanding, he gathered her up into a hug and whispered, "I'll help you. I know what the _Pearl _means to you. I'll help, and this will work out fine - I promise." (He would later kick himself for those ridiculous statements, and would perform a ritual destruction of all the remaining rum bottles in the house.)

He straightened up. "I'll see you both very soon." He kissed Elizabeth on the forehead, kissed Charlotte hard on the lips, and let them go.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed and put his aching head in his hands. He figured he had time to puke once more, maybe drink the rest of that third bottle, and then it was time to get dressed and gear up to chase after the _Black Pearl_ - again.

* * *

TBC.

I don't know why I've been seeing Davy as simultaneously mean and sympathetic lately. Hmm. Oh well. (And Norrie, I had a rough weekend too - I feel your pain!)

Review for me! C'mon, you know you secretly feel guilty. Besides, I'm serious when I say that your comments inspire me and get me thinking.


	16. Now: Three ships sail

A/N: Mildly fast-paced chapter. Sorry it took so long to get out. Hopefully next one will be quicker…

* * *

Although they were on their way to World's End, life on the _Black Pearl _was remarkably ordinary... even though everything - starting with the captain - was a mess. Barbossa lost his temper even more frequently than usual and looked so ill as to frighten even Jack at times, but he thought he felt all right. He grew less and less cooperative about Jack cleaning out his gunshot wounds, since Jack did a worse job than Elizabeth and besides, if he died it hardly mattered - they would just pick him right up again when they got to World's End, right?

The _Pearl _itself was a mess after what the Kraken had done to it, and the injuries to his ship bothered Jack at least as much as the injuries to his co-captain. What time he didn't spend on Barbossa he spent spurring what was left of the crew to greater and greater efforts to make repairs.

And the crew, also, was a mess. They had lost a lot of people and, worse, a lot of rum in the fight, and they had gained a vast amount of repair work to do. They were now overworked, sober, and grouchy to a man. Gibbs had had to bite two different people to protect his beloved flask, and though he had emerged from both incidents unpunished so far, the captains warned him that there would be repercussions if any more of the crew's ears were found in his pockets.

Willie, at least, was not much of a mess. In fact, nobody paid him any mind at all other than to order him to work. He had still not received an apology or even an explanation for the captain's frightening behavior towards him, so he found ways to spend most of his time aloft, wishing he had the nerve to come ask Barbossa what was going on and when his mother would return. As long as he was doing work and saving other people the climb, the crew had no problem with this.

Things were relatively peaceful.

* * *

The _Dutchman_, too, was tranquil. Davy had butted heads only once with his new surgeon, hard but briefly, over whether or not he would share a bedroom with Elizabeth and Charlotte.

"I like to submerge my ship completely." Davy was exercising an unusual degree of patience. "If you don't pile into the dry room with them, you will drown."

"I don't care what you do to me," Dr. Bailey had said calmly, "But I categorically refuse to compromise two ladies - friends of mine in fact - by something so improper as-"

"Improper?" Elizabeth had tried to head off the argument before it got ugly. "Doctor, I'm sorry to put it so crudely, but you attended me in _childbirth, _sir. After that, I should think sleeping in the same room is not-"

"-Is still not permissible," he said over her, facing Davy. "Under any circumstances. I will be given a different place to sleep, or I won't even look at you."

"At me?" Davy repeated.

"Yes. I presume _you _are the 'injured sea-monster' I've been kidnapped to treat?"

"Hah! Wait and see." _Plurrrp._ Davy considered whether it would be wise to make enemies with the person to whom he was about to entrust the Kraken's health. "All right, we'll keep the _Dutchman _above water," he snapped at last. "The ladies can sleep in the dry room, and _you-" _he gestured with his claw in Bailey's direction, "-will be sharing my room with me."

Elizabeth tried to keep her face neutral, but she was secretly very pleased with this turn of events. Sailing above water meant that they would never be fast enough to catch the _Pearl_.

Although... come to think of it... they might even be slow enough for Norrington to catch _them_. What might Davy do about that?

Elizabeth told herself not to think about it just yet, and when Charlotte asked her if everything was all right, she said yes.

The _Dutchman _sailed on, and the doctor worked at mending the Kraken, and things were peaceful, if a little tense.

* * *

Oddly enough, the ship on which things were not at all peaceful was Norrington's. The drama started on only the second day of the voyage.

There was a line flapping in the breeze. Norrington gestured at it. "You! Sailor!" he called to a particularly filthy-looking man, one of the extra hands they had hired on short notice to crew the ship so that all the soldiers would be free for fighting. "Do we pay you to sit and do nothing? Make that fast!"

"Yes, sir, of course, sir, right away, sir!" the sailor lurched towards the rope, totally unsteady on his feet even though the weather was calm.

Norrington frowned. The crew was drunk, already?

But then the sailor actually reached the rope and went to make a knot, and Norrington's frown of displeasure doubled in size.

The sailor seemed to have never tied a knot in his life. He crossed parts of the rope over one another uncertainly, trying to glance back over his shoulder to determine if he was being watched or not, and finally just gave up and tied it as he would a shoelace - complete with bow.

_He's mocking me, _Norrington realized. "One more bit of impertinence and I'll stop your grog for a week!" he barked. "Do you hear me? Come over here!"

The sailor froze, then shrugged, and walked over with that peculiar stagger that Norrington belatedly recognized as not drunkenness, but the gait of an old man who only rarely rode on a ship. "You're absolutely right," the sailor said as soon as he was within hearing distance. "James, I can't do this. The disguise was good enough to get me aboard, but..."

Norrington knew the voice but could hardly believe it. "No... Governor Swann?" He squinted to make him out beneath the shaggy mustache and the grime. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Swann peeled off his mustache and took the filthy bandana off his head. "Elizabeth frequently behaves as though she were a citizen of another planet," he said wearily, beginning the momentous task of wiping his face clean. "No one knows that better than you, do they? Well I'm not going to lose her, James. It occurred to me that perhaps the best way to get through to her is to speak to her in a language that she'll recognize."

Norrington shook his head. "So you disguised yourself and hid yourself aboard a ship which is too dangerous for you and on which you are not welcome," he snapped. "Wonderful. Governor, if you get yourself killed here, Elizabeth will have my head, do you realize that?"

"Get myself killed? Perish the thought," Swann scoffed. "If the danger of a sea voyage doesn't bother my little girl, then by God it won't bother me. Now, I'm going to change out of these ridiculous clothes into something just a little cleaner, and then you can tell me if there's anything I actually _can _help with."

* * *

But that was only the beginning of Norrington's headaches. That night, in desperate need of a pick-me-up, he decided to go and watch Mercer die for a while.

In Port Royal Mercer had insisted, during one of his brief periods of wakefulness, that he be allowed to come along on the trip. It was pointed out to him that he was critically injured. "Oh, this? This is nothing, Governor," he'd assured Swann, without a trace of strain in his face. "I should still like to go, sir." For some reason Norrington would never understand, even though the disaster of last trip had been entirely Mercer's fault, the Governor agreed.

Watching the man's utter calm despite a gaping hole in his chest had made Norrington feel compelled to cross himself. It was just simply not natural. Norrington thought that now, though, after days at sea without proper care, Mercer might be in such bad shape that he would _finally _drop that horrifyingly icy facade of his.

So he went down into the hold, where he had ordered Mercer to be kept in total isolation and dark save for brief visits to leave food or water on the floor beside him. He saw the limp body stretched out on its dirty bedding, the shattered chest barely rising and falling, and his first thought was, _Let's see the bastard sneak up on me now_!

He pulled a chair up next to the mattress and sat down. "Mercer." He reached down and slapped the patient's cheek lightly to get his attention.

And then Norrington screamed and jumped out of his seat - it seemed the bastard had managed to scare him after all.

Because the man dying in the hold, the man from whom Norrington had been subtly withholding whatever comforts he could get away with withholding, was not Mercer at all. It was Gilette.

"Evening, sir," Gilette rasped twenty minutes later, when Norrington had finally succeeded at waking him up in the light and warmth of his own cabin. "We're at sea? How long have I been out? I know you ordered me to get well and I'm sorry for disobeying you, sir... it's really the first time... but I had to."

"Why?"

"Because I know Mercer is nothing but trouble. I switched beds with him so they'd carry me on instead of him. A cloth on my head for fever, you know, blood everywhere... nobody took a close look. He almost got you killed, Commodore. I wasn't about to give him a second chance."

"You'd kill yourself... for _me_?" Norrington could hardly believe it.

"Perhaps I won't have to - we _are_ currently in pursuit of one of the best doctors in the Caribbean, after all," Gilette reminded him with a weak smile. "And I don't feel all that badly yet. There's still a bit of hope. I'm praying that we catch the _Dutchman _in time, sir, and that there's still something more the doctor can do for me. It's possible, Commodore. Pray for it."

Norrington proceeded to pray for it.

* * *

Elizabeth was shaken awake in the middle of the night, and she blinked the sleep out of her eyes and stared up at- "Davy! This is my bedr-"

"Someone is calling for me."

She tried to think of why on earth Davy had woken her up to tell her that. "Calling…? You mean asking you to save them? But don't people call you all the time?"

"Aye, but often it's just a vague buzz I'm too far away to do anything about. This time someone's in trouble nearby." He paused. "Behind us." He watched her face carefully to confirm his guess when he said, "A Navy man."

Elizabeth's face broadcast horror and guilt and _bloody hell - he knows_. Before she could think of what to say, Davy smiled at her, not a happy smile, and tossed his head back. Over the squelching of his hair, he said: "Poor hostages."

* * *

TBC.

Wow, I can't believe I thought Norrington was going to leave the story. Shows what I know.

**Barbossa rant**: I'm thrilled you guys like my Barbossa. I think I may have made him just a shade cleverer than he was in CotBP, but I think most of what I have is pretty much canon. He's a little brutal sometimes, but not nearly as bloodthirsty as people like to think (People forget that nobody stepped in to halt the first blood sacrifice; Elizabeth's throat wasn't cut solely because he decided not to cut it). And the affection for Jack is definitely canon. We see rivalry, jealousy, plenty of vindictive rage... but also a fair bit of what a pirate might consider friendship. I've always thought he was remarkably patient with Jack during that "Standin on some beach with naught but a name and your word it's the one I need" scene. Think about it: _Jack's idea _landed him in hell on earth for ten years, and here Jack is, not only uncursed, not only rubbing it in his face without a shred of compassion, but also actually ready to refuse him deliverance if they don't strike a deal. If I were Barbossa I would have ceased the conversation right there, tied Jack up, and put all my years of butchering people to good use until Jack told me what I needed to know. Instead, no matter how much crap Jack gives him Barbossa just takes it, and even laughs at Jack's audacity. He's cutting Jack a lot of slack there to even let him make that proposal. He must like him, or else the only proposal Jack would be making would begin with "Stop oh God no please stop, anything- I'll tell you anything..."

End of rant. Anyhoo.

Leave me some love!


	17. Then: Elizabeth gets a present

A/N: This one is short and perhaps a tad sappy but I promise the next NOW chapter is almost ready to go and will be up soon. Probably Wednesday.

Post-accord, year two. Elizabeth gets a present.

* * *

Governor Swann pounced on Elizabeth as soon as she came through the door. "Good evening, Elizabeth, can I ask you a question?"

She jumped. "Father? What are you doing here? There's no dinner on my calendar, I'm sure I-"

"Calm down, child – you're not hosting anyone, no guests, nothing like that. It's just... I'm here because..." He clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. "Are you or are you not still in contact with those _pirates_?"

"With those-" Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "How dare you! I gave Will my word, I promised him a normal life, I told you I haven't seen them since we came home!" She was so offended it took her a moment to think to ask: "Why?"

"Because," he explained, unable to lose the accusing tone of voice, "A package came for you today. A package from _them_." Swann gestured to a crate that sat on the carpet by the fire.

The carpet was covered in splinters and she realized that her father had _opened _whatever private present had been sent to her. How dare he! Not only that, but how had he even _known _about it? He must have a spy among the staff of the Turners' house, then. Elizabeth wasn't particularly surprised - after all, the Governor made no secret of his lack of faith in Will Turner's ability to take care of his little girl - but she _was_ angry.

"Well, why don't you tell me what's _in _the box," she said haughtily, "Considering you already opened it."

His hands were still behind his back but it wasn't enough to hide his fidgeting. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I truly am. But I thought... well, I knew it had come from _him _and I had no idea what he might be sending you! It- it could be explosive, it could be illegal, it could be Jack Sparrow for heaven's sake, all folded up like-"

"All right, all right, I see your point," she interrupted, trying not to smile. Sometimes she found her father's fussing endearing rather than simply annoying, and this happened to be one of those times. "So, I gather the present wasn't Jack? What was it? And how did you know where it had come from?"

"The box was sent to your new address, the home of Mr. and Mrs. William Turner... but the porter had orders to deliver it with the message: _Congratulations, miss. You look well_. Miss? Nobody calls you 'miss,' not since-"

"I see." Elizabeth bit her lip but the smile was here to stay. "So may I see it? What did he send me? There's been precious little to congratulate me about lately - I've been abed since the baby came and for a while I'd totally lost my figure."

"That's what disturbed me," Swann admitted. "It was delivered _today_. As if he knew you were finally well and beautiful and going out."

So he had someone in Port Royal keeping an eye on her? In the year since she and Will had been married, Elizabeth had not gotten the slightest acknowledgement from the _Black Pearl; _for all she knew the pirates had forgotten she existed. Every now and again she thought about that, and it hurt. But now it seemed they hadn't forgotten her after all - they had, in fact, been keeping up with her closely enough to know when she was sick and when she was well again. That was more warming than a whole bottle of rum, and Elizabeth found she couldn't wait any longer to see her present. She moved aside the splintered lid of the crate and inside was...

A carefully-folded dark red dress. It had been pressed, cleaned perhaps, but she could still see powder-marks and faint bloodstains. "Good grief, I haven't seen this dress since the plank!"

"Plank?" her father echoed unhappily.

"Yes, the plank," she murmured, lost in thought, wondering whether she had ever remembered to take Barbossa to task for that little incident. "The bastard marooned me, I could have been killed..."

"_Bastard_?" he repeated. It had taken months for Elizabeth to become civilized again after her last stint on a pirate ship, and it seemed that all it took was the gift of an old gown to reverse all that progress! Swann hovered uncertainly. "Can I ask what-"

"-No. Or rather," she said impishly, over her shoulder, "You can ask, but no matter how you torture me I shall never tell a word of it."

"Torture," he repeated faintly. "Elizabeth, darling, you mustn't say things like that..."

She got to her feet. "I know, I know. Or my son will grow up to be a savage," she recited. "I don't know why I believe you all, though. _I _grew up into a savage when nobody used foul language around _me_."

"All the more reason not to take unnecessary chances." Swann bent down and closed the lid of the box firmly. "Elizabeth. You will _not _wear this dress."

"Says who? I'm a grown wom-"

"-A grown _daughter_," he interrupted, "Who will obey her father no matter how old she gets."

_Or how many filthy brats she turns out._ Elizabeth tried not to think it, but it seemed that _everything _was destined to remind her of pirates today. "All right, all right," she sighed. With the huge disparity between what was expected of her and what she sometimes wanted, she had to choose her battles carefully. This was not worth fighting over. She would not wear the dress.

Swann watched her reach her decision and tried to simply feel proud of her for being mature, but in the end discovered that he couldn't bear to see her so dispirited. "Elizabeth... keep it if you must," he sighed. "But at least go put it upstairs somewhere before Will comes home - he will like it even less than I do."

Elizabeth gave her father a kiss on the cheek, gathered her present up in her arms and made for the stairs. She went to her vast closet and put the dress in her pirate box - which was labeled _Summer Shoes #4 _to keep her husband out. She told herself that there would be no harm in putting the gown on every now and again for old times sake... just as there was no harm in every now and again slipping into Jack's shackles or rolling Davy's dice or sleeping on Barbossa's pillow when the mood took her. No harm at all.

But she still found herself going over the _Summer Shoes #4 _label once more with darker ink, and then hiding the box under _Summer Shoes #1, #2, _and_ #3_. Just in case.

**

* * *

Meanwhile:**

* * *

"I've got an offer I'll only be makin twice," Barbossa began. "Here it is: there are four or five ships I'm havin trouble locating, and I need some help. You provide that help, and I'll let you live. I'll even drop you off on land someplace. What say you?"

The prisoner spat on the deck at Barbossa's feet. "I will never help you!"

"There, now you got to defy me. Wasn't it fun?" Barbossa was still friendly. "But now it's time to take the offer seriously. Think about it - it's your last chance to save yourself. Will ye talk or not?"

The prisoner thought for maybe two seconds and then shook his head.

Barbossa heaved a sigh. "Very well, deal's off the table." He drew his cutlass and without further ado jammed it two-handed through the man's abdomen.

_Excellent job, _Barbossa congratulated himself. The tip was just barely poking out the other side. He stood calmly while the prisoner gasped and moaned and felt all the blood and finally collapsed in a heap.

Barbossa knelt down beside him. "Now that be a fatal gut wound," he explained calmly. "My experience says you'll last somewhere between the rest of today, all the way through perhaps tomorrow night." The man was crying, and Barbossa waited patiently until he quieted down a moment. "That does seem a long time, don't it? Well, you wouldn't trade your secret for life, but perhaps in time you'll trade it for death. Do you understand?" he pressed, staring into the man's glazed eyes. "That information'll buy you a bullet whenever you ask for it. Have somebody send for me at the helm when you're ready." He stood and before he left, told the crew that if this cockroach found some way of dyin without his permission, there would be hell to pay for all of them.

At first the prisoner begged for help. Then he began to beg for death. After holding out for a record time of thirty-seven minutes, he finally offered to give up his secrets in exchange.

But when Barbossa heard the answer to his first question, he jiggled the cutlass around in the man's guts to make him scream. "That's a lie, boy," he said. "I'll be askin you a whole lot of questions and I already know the answers to almost all of them. If you lie again..." he held up a wad of cloth and smiled. "We'll bandage you right up and you could last for days. Now, take your time, and don't call me again until you're _really _ready."

It was another hour before the man capitulated in earnest. When Barbossa was finally satisfied with the information, he cocked his gun and said, "Bullet's all yours, son. Anythin else you want first?"

"To c-c-carve out your black heart," he choked out.

"Fraid you'll have to wait on line for that one. How about a drink?" The prisoner nodded. "Water? Rum? We have coffee but to be frank it's-"

"Water's f... fine."

Barbossa got the drink himself, and then when the prisoner said he was ready, killed him with a clean shot to the head. Some of the crew was looking at him with suspicion. "Problem, gents?"

"We're rationed tighter than the Queen's corsets and you'd waste rum on the likes of _him_?" asked a pirate with particularly offensive breath.

Barbossa rolled his eyes and tossed him the bottle he'd been holding. The pirate, not knowing his captain all that well, uncorked it and took a huge gulp before any of the cleverer pirates could warn him to think first. He retched and spit it out and stared at the bottle in his hand.

"It was seawater," Barbossa explained. He nudged the body with his foot and ordered: "Now somebody get this over the side afore it starts to stink." He headed off into his cabin for a nap, glad that he was not a religious man because he knew that if he were, he'd be going to Hell for sure.

* * *

TBC.

See – Barbossa is _not _a softie! Even though he pulls out Elizabeth's chair for her and cracks jokes with her while she's supposed to be a human sacrifice. Still never a softie!

So I watched DMC again from start to finish for a change (I usually skip to the bits with Davy or Pirate!Norrington in it) and I noticed a couple of things:

1. In Tia Dalma's shack, we've all seen the monkey make a beeline for Barbossa's boots when he's released... BUT how did I never notice that Jack finds Barbossa's hat and picks it up and toys with it for the whole scene??? (Or am I crazy and that's a _different _dark feathered hat that gets a billion years of screen time for no reason?)

2. Governor Swann is not quite as lame as people usually make him, and I feel bad for him. He and Bootstrap Bill pull the same trick, but where Will is very appreciative (They'll know you helped me, I won't abandon you, etc), Elizabeth gives no thought to the fact that conspiring to free her is going to get her father condemned to death. Hmph. Pirate!

Review!!


	18. Now: Gilette says goodbye

Norrington was less than pleased when the _Dutchman _shot forth from the sea beside him. "Somehow this is not how I envisioned the pursuit going," he murmured to Governor Swann. (With Gilette incapacitated, he had mentally promoted the Governor to the position of Clean Polite Wigged Man With Good Posture Who Stands At My Shoulder. He found, though, that Swann made him nervous, rather than reassuring him the way G- _stop thinking about Gilette you bloody fool and handle this right or we'll **all **end up as bad off as he is)._

Swann covered his mouth and barely managed not to cover his eyes or cross himself. "My daughter is _there_?" he whispered, watching the ship's nonhuman crew milling about threateningly.

"Apparently so." Norrington wished fervently for a second opinion, but he was on his own. "Well... I suppose we ought to try and strike a deal for the return of the hostages."

"_My daughter,_" Swann reminded sharply, not liking to hear Elizabeth reduced to a bargaining piece.

Norrington glared at him. "My wife."

"Yes, yes, of course, I..." Swann stepped back, away from the railing. "Commodore, I hope you have a better idea of how to handle this than I do."

Norrington called for someone to bring him a spyglass.

* * *

Norrington was extremely proud of the way he fought past the pit in his stomach and stood up strong in the face of an irate Davy Jones, lying through his teeth about following the _Dutchman _on his own initiative. "I came because I want us to be allies," he said firmly. "We require the same thing: a pirate's head on a pike." 

Crudity was the perfect move: it made Davy smile and invite, "Pray continue."

"I understand this is personal for you, and in fact that suits me better." Nobody attempted to interrupt at all except Elizabeth, and Norrington managed to hold her to silence with a glare. He gained confidence with every steady word. "_You _may kill Sparrow, or Barbossa, or both if you prefer. I would say you may kill them however you like, but you've got something of a reputation so I think it best to specify that I need the corpses to be recognizable. When you're through, I'll take them home to Port Royal to be tarred and gibbeted."

"So it's only the trophy you're after?"

"Only the trophy. In fact I like Sparrow, and I've no interest in harming him myself. It's just that hunting pirates is my duty and I've been ordered to finish the _Black Pearl _and I don't mean to risk my own neck for failing." He shrugged. "I gather you know where they've gone?"

Davy intended to be as stingy as possible with information. He knew Norrington would not turn traitor - the man desperately needed to bring home a dead pirate and required Davy's help to do it - but there was always Elizabeth to consider. Davy meant to send her away, since she had been annoying him lately with those large disapproving eyes, but on the other hand letting her out of his sight made her potentially dangerous. She shouldn't know any more than she had to. "You and I will talk in private," Davy said to the Commodore. "We'll talk over _your_ charts - mine are all covered in seaweed."

* * *

When Davy and Norrington had disappeared below, Governor Swann went to Elizabeth at once to give her a hug hello. She dissolved into tears against him, but after brief and futile efforts to understand what she was saying (it was something about Will; Swann assumed the pirate ship had evoked memories of her dead husband, that's all), he just soothed her absently and looked over her shoulder at the other hostage he was worried for. 

"Are you all right, Hugh?"

Bailey looked somewhat manic and feverish from lack of sleep, but nevertheless was jubilant. "Never better. Weatherby, this ship... it's a scientific miracle, it's... I can't even tell you how it's... What I wouldn't give to be allowed to dissect one of these things... No offense meant, there," Bailey added to a half-shark creature that was growling at him, "I dissect people too. It's just, it's amazing, Weatherby, they say they were once human and aside from the question of God's image and the soul - which really is an interesting one now - the mechanical puzzles are, are-"

"Please - you can see that this is all of no concern whatsoever to me." Swann sighed. "Is it even worth the trouble of negotiating for your safe return?"

"Don't bother - I'm currently of vital importance to Captain Jones, and Elizabeth worked out a promise with him that I'll be brought to shore when I'm done putting his sea monster back together. I assure you I'm in no rush to leave this place."

Elizabeth finally wiped her eyes and stood up on her own. "I'm still sorry I kidnapped you. Twice."

"And again I tell you that your apology is twice accepted. This is the discovery of a lifetime, Mrs. Turner. It hardly seemed real at first, but now I-"

"Well, well." Davy Jones's voice cut across the deck and efficiently ceased all conversation. "Just the man we're looking for. Right this way, please, Doctor. We have a little dispute we need settled."

Bailey was anxious to get back to the _Dutchman,_ fixated on the possible implications of a person transforming into a fish and did that mean some kind of biological if not spiritual equality and - "Pardon me?"

Davy dropped the tone of mocking politeness. "Down here. Now. We find ourselves in need of a second opinion."

* * *

It was a question Dr. Bailey was intimately familiar with. The answer came as naturally as breathing: a facial expression of mingled solemnity and determination, the tone quiet, perhaps a sigh and a little shake of the head with it: "Difficult to say." 

But this time, it seemed his tried-and-true answer was a wrong one. Davy Jones grabbed him by the throat with his claw and lifted him almost off his feet. Louder this time, to be heard over the doctor's gurgling and the scuffing of his tiptoes on the floor, Jones repeated his question: "_Is this man going to live or die?_"

Bailey experienced a moment of intense panic and slapped uselessly at the claw that held him, but eventually Jones dropped him to the floor. "Well?"

He coughed and scrambled out of grabbing distance. "It's- it's not that simple!"

"Answer!"

"I can't just _tell _you whether-"

"Are you a betting man, Dr. Bailey?" The voice had become low and flat and hard. "What if I wanted you to stake your soul on the answer to that question, hmm?" He jerked his head in Norrington's direction. "Forget _him _and _me _and just guess as if your life depended on it - because it may! What do you think fate has in store for this poor man here?" He pointed once more to Gilette's writhing body.

"I- I don't-"

"Just say it!" Norrington exploded. "Whatever the news is, just for heaven's sake _say _it!"

Bailey took a deep breath. "I'd have to examine him. Give me a moment." He looked Gilette over and it didn't take _half _a moment to see that the man had had it. To confirm his impression Bailey felt for pulse - racing - and for fever - intense - and listened for a grinding breath or two.

"I'm sorry, Commodore," he said, wishing he could break the news more gently. "People consider me overly optimistic but even _I_ see there's nothing that would make a difference. He was on the brink of death when I left him, and that was in a clean warm room with care round the clock. I'm afraid your lieutenant is not going to live."

"As I thought," Davy said triumphantly. He arched his eyebrows in Norrington's direction. "And now you've had your second opinion."

Norrington ignored him. "There has to be something."

"You can try to make him comfortable. I'm afraid that's all there is. You did right to tie him down; he can hardly breathe and he's delirious and he'll probably claw his chest to pieces if you let him up. I'm sorry," Bailey repeated, without much feeling. People died all the time. This man had been shot in the chest and hadn't been taken care of properly - what did they expect to happen to him?

Half-sincere condolences delivered to a grieving and desperate man made Davy laugh. "The poor thing." He let the words ooze out of his mouth. "If only there was something we could do." He took his hand and laid it against Gilette's forehead.

Gilette's tormented twisting subsided and his noise quieted down to soft whimpers. "You're helping him," Norrington breathed. "Can you do s-"

"No, he can't," Bailey said sharply. "It's only that his hands are cool. Don't toy with them, Captain - they hope too easily." Davy only smiled and started humming. Bailey stepped right up to him and looked him in the eyes. "You know as well as I do that there's nothing for this man, and you're only making Norrington sick with false promises."

"False promises? Is that so?" Davy withdrew his hand and they all watched Gilette's condition worsen. He put it back and Gilette relaxed.

The hand crept slowly down the side of the patient's face and then hovered over his chest. "Your doctor says he will die tonight. I can offer him a hundred more years. That's a rosier future than you've got yourself, Commodore." When a tentacle reached out to stroke across Gilette's throat, Gilette arched into it and moaned.

Although Norrington was still too horrified to move, he didn't seem to have made up his mind yet so Davy pressed him once more: "Say the word and I'll close this wound right up…"

"Stop it," Dr. Bailey put in with authority. "If I've understood correctly, it's not a decision one human being can make for another anyway. So stop tormenting Norrington. Let his friend die in peace."

Davy looked down into Gilette's eyes. "I'm sorry, friend. It was a sincere offer. Enjoy your death." He stepped back and Gilette made an agonized noise.

"Wait – stop." Norrington took a step forward and forced himself to speak, and once he started it all came pouring out. "Listen, you can't do this, it's my fault and not his this happened; I'm the one who deprived him of medicine and sun and whatever else might have helped him, he is dying solely for _my _mistakes and I can't let that happen. I can't be responsible for any more loss of life. Please, close him up and leave him alone, take me instead if you must but I'm begging you to make a deal with me."

Davy's face folded into a smile so wide his eyes squinted shut. "No deal."

"But you're _Davy Jones_. Elizabeth said one can _always _deal with you if one is desperate enough."

"One can always deal with me when one still has something to lose," Davy corrected. "I've already given you the choice between staining your hands with a friend's blood, or signing him over to servitude of a hundred years. What could possibly be worse than that? Hmm?"

"I'm offering you my soul."

"And let you keep your self-respect? At that price I don't want your filthy _soul_." Any further nastiness was cut short by Gilette's beginning to choke and wheeze even more desperately than he had been doing. "I think we're running out of time, doctor. What think you?"

"We can all see that he's dying," Bailey said coldly. Despite the legends he did not believe that there was any procedure – soul-costing or otherwise – that could save somebody as far gone as this.

"Make your choice. No? No answer? Well, that's choice enough, then, isn't it? Say your goodbyes."

Norrington had to swallow twice before he could speak. "A-All right: save him. Do whatever you have to do. _Now_!"

Unsurprised, Davy gave him a deep formal bow. "As you wish." His face was pointing groundward but Norrington could hear the smile in his voice. He tore open Gilette's bandages with his claw, then lay his tentacle/hand combination over Gilette's chest and got busy.

Norrington couldn't watch it happen. He heard moaning and whimpering and the rustle of clothing, and then some time later felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned and faced Gilette and tried not to look at the pulsing sea-slime that covered his chest. "I'm… sorry."

"It's not your fault, Commodore, sir. I shouldn't have come here, I-"

"Do we have an agreement or not?" Davy asked from behind him. "I prefer you to make your own oath. Say yes and serve me, or say no and saddle your friend here with the burden of guilt that he was too cowardly to pick up for himself. If you ask me for death now I'll give it... and it's your last chance."

Gilette stared into Norrington's eyes and answered: "Commodore Norrington owes no guilt for anything. He made the correct choice for me; it's my fault I'm in such a bad way and I would rather live than die and had our positions been reversed I would have made the same choice for him."

Davy knew perfectly well he was lying but didn't bother to call him on it – Norrington would surely know too. "I'm sure. Now, crewman, get yourself over to _our ship_ and await my orders."

Gilette turned to him and saluted. "Yes captain." He turned back to Norrington and saluted again. "Goodbye, Commodore, sir, and good luck. Everything will be fine, sir. I'm sure our paths will cross again before this is all over." He went away, stiff upper lip intact, before Norrington could answer.

* * *

Although soaking wet, Jack was happy. He considered Barrel a wonderful game (except for the time the crew had tried to drown them while they were playing), and today he had won fair and square for a change. "All right," he told Barbossa firmly, "My win, my rules. You are hereby _forbidden _to ignore the kid or make him cry for no reason. You will allow him to tail you all day if he wants, and you'll teach him with the same patience you used to show Elizabeth." He couldn't help adding: "Course, all the kissing and suchlike is optional - he seems a little young for that." 

Barbossa wrung out his hair. "We got ourselves much more serious problems than the kid, Jack. We have to talk."

"Are you arguing with me?"

"Course not - a dispute's a dispute. Kid gets five minutes, and _then_ you and I sit and figure things out." He turned his attention to Willie and answered the first of his many questions. "Jack and me settle arguments by playin games. That one's called Barrel, and it's _supposed _to be a measure of who'll dare hold his breath the longest." He explained that it originally had been just the two of them kneeling side-by-side and keeping their heads in barrels of water until one gave up. Eventually Jack had the bright idea to tickle his opponent during the game, and Barbossa wasted his breath laughing and was forced to surrender immediately. Next time they played Barbossa drew a knife and carved into Jack for a speedy win, and the time after that, when they had agreed not to use weapons, Jack tried to slither his hand down his opponent's pants.

It had taken Barbossa ten minutes to cough up all the water he inhaled on that one.

Today, other than pounding annoyingly on Barbossa's barrel with his elbow, Jack had played the game as it was meant to be played and, for a change, won. "But I'll be havin him next time," Barbossa finished, more for Jack's benefit than Willie's. "So he should just stay outta my way once I feel better. Satsified? Now, storytime's over. Go see Gibbs and tell him I said put you to work."

The captains shut themselves up in the cabin and went to work themselves.

* * *

"Jack, this is worse than the Isla de Muerte trip. We got _nothing_." 

"Here's what we got." Jack ticked off the points on his fingers: "High likelihood of mortal danger. One captain who's near death and the other who's crazy. No chance of treasure of any kind. No women unless you count Elizabeth, and no boys either unless you count her son, both of whom are not on the menu. Speaking of menu there's hardly any food, a ship that's half-destroyed and smells like squid entrails, a crew that barely has half a brain apiece and-" Jack stopped suddenly and stared off into space.

"Sounds like a trip nobody'd sign on for except _you_," Barbossa growled. "We can't make World's End without a decent crew, Jack, and we're sailin with the dregs. Where can we get who we need - fast?" Jack was still staring and didn't answer, so Barbossa snatched the rum from his hand and drank it. "Jack? Hello?"

"Wait a bit. I said something about _half a brain _and that got me wondering: have you seen Thriyaiafbrain around recently?"

(Jack and Barbossa had long since given up attempting to remember the names of their strangely endearing crewmembers Pintel and Ragetti. Barbossa had complained once that the two of them had only three eyes and half a brain between them, and Jack took to calling them collectively Three-Eye-Half-Brain, or some muddled variation thereof when he was in a hurry.)

Barbossa frowned. "Come think of it, no. Why?"

Jack jumped up and began rifling through the drawers by the bed. "I have an idea. Remember that map we told everybody leads to treasure?"

"You mean the one that actually leads to the cannibal island?"

"Yep, that one." Jack finished searching the drawers and grinned. "Gone. I knew they'd been eyeing it... Looks like they finally took the bait. Slimy gits must've stole our map and jumped ship at Tortuga. Bloody pirates."

Barbossa was not at all pleased. "Wonderful. That's two less to make the trip with us. Now, way I see it we have two choices: either curse their memory and then forget about 'em, or toast good luck to them and _then _forget."

"Actually there's a third choice," Jack suggested a moment later. "If they followed the map they're on the island, but on the far side. It's possible they've not been found yet and are still alive. So technically, being as we're short-staffed already, we could still rescue them and take them back into the crew."

Barbossa's lip curled. "Was the mutiny _that _pleasurable that you absolutely must experience it again? A captain doesn't beg after his crew, Jack. It's trouble."

"Oh, come on, mate, Thriyaiafbrain isn't exactly the rabble-rousing sort. Better yet they're incredibly loyal to each other - and that equals leverage. Think about it."

Barbossa thought about it. It was true that there were precious few pirates who could be counted on in an emergency. Most were barely smart enough to consider their own immediate best interests and it took an axe actually hanging over their heads to convince them to obey. If Thriyaiafbrain could be more easily and reliably manipulated, then indeed, a rescue might be worthwhile. "Tell you what, Jack, the island's mostly on our way so you got yourself a deal. We'll have a quick look and if we find them we'll test them. If they don't impress me… those friends of yours will be havin themselves somethin of a barbecue. Hope none of 'em breaks a tooth on that wooden eye."

Jack decided to wait for a better time before springing the _rest _of his idea on his co-captain. If they were so desperate for warm bodies to crew the ship with... the Pelegostos were numerous and smart and tough and besides, if rations ran _really _short and people starting dropping dead of starvation… Pelegostos would be the last to complain, wouldn't they.

A ship crewed by cannibals who thought Jack was a god?

_If I get Barbossa drunk enough he might go for it, _Jack told himself. He briefly considered trying to mix up what was left of Bailey's medicines into some kind of mind-control draught, but soon dismissed it as completely ridiculous. One good thing about Barbossa, though, was that for all his intelligence he was exceedingly convinceable. Especially when things looked this desperate. Jack knew he could work _something _out...

* * *

**TBC.**

I cannot resist using those bloody cannibals. I have no idea why they were included in DMC, but now that they're here, I fully intend to make a little use of them. But do _you _think Barbossa will go for Jack's idea? Yeah, me neither.

Welcome aboard, Krokneze and ShinyGreenApple! The reason I fastfoward to Norrie bits is it's hilarious to watch him drunkenly blow chunks throughout the entire movie, and also, I'm still trying to get a read on him. So here's what I think so far...

**Norrie rant: **In CotBP I _loved_ Norrington; I thought he was hilarious and had this horrible case of freedom-envy, hating Jack for getting to be everything _he _wanted to be. Every time Jack did something - beginning with saving Elizabeth and stealing that hug when she put his belt and stuff back on him - Norrington just thought, "That should be _me_. He doesn't deserve it and I could do it better." I thought it was cute that he was so jealous, and he had some super funny lines. And his giving Jack a day's head start suggested, I thought, that he was going to become fun and mischevious.

But in DMC he seemed to be beyond jaded, really nasty at times, and his secret admiration for Jack turned into a kind of Captain-Ahab-esque obsession. I'd like to think there's still a good man under there someplace, that in some ways he'd still be boyish and naive enough to cop to nervousness while proposing marriage (I know men are allowed to have feelings _today_, but back then, as a grown man who had already made good and was now proposing to a young lady, that should have been a no-no for him), but I'm not sure. I think no matter what happens to him after DMC, he'll always have this nagging feeling that he lost something. He thinks that getting his old position and respect back would clear that up, but I think it's something deeper, something about being rejected because he sold too much of himself to play the game. He seems older and more cynical, and I think no matter what happiness he finds, for the rest of his life he's sometimes going to have days where he feels like it's all second best and he's only making do. Boy that sucks.

(If someone has a happier interpretation of Norrie or a more rosy projection of his future, by all means share it! But this unfortunately is what I think.)


	19. Now: the Pelegostos make soup

Jack and Barbossa went ashore to the cannibal island alone, so as not to let the crew in on the secret. They told everyone that Thriyaiafbrain (whose names they tried valiantly to remember and still butchered completely) had gone on a secret mission under the captains' own orders. They went ashore and hunted around a bit, quietly so as not to draw attention from the cannibals, and soon found their wayward crew members in the woods.

Pintel and Ragetti begged forgiveness with much flattery and apologizing and even a few tears.

Jack and Barbossa pretended to consider it. They whispered to each other (nonsense, mostly, and a brief argument over what was for dinner), and then Barbossa threw his shoulders back and delivered the decision. "We'll only take one with us." He waved carelessly in Pintel's direction and told him, "Today be your lucky day: you can stay."

"What?"

The bewildered Thriyaiafbrain edged closer together as Barbossa explained: "Everybody knows than when two idiots get together and do somethin stupid, one of 'em's the brains of the operation and the other's only along for the ride. I'm assumin he's the brains-" he pointed at Ragetti, "-and so he's the one we're going to punish for your treachery. You, then, you're free to go."

"I- no, now wait a minute!" Pintel erupted when Jack got hold of his friend. "You let go of him - _I'm _the brains of our operation!"

Barbossa gave him a look of mock confusion. "So you're tellin us to take you instead and keelhaul you in his place?"

Sensing a trap, Pintel shut his mouth but it was too late.

"Mmm-hmm, very brainy," Jack put in. "Just as we said. Ta." He took Ragetti by the arm and led him away. Barbossa threw around a couple of contemptuous glances and then followed, leaving Pintel standing alone and forlorn and scratching his head in confusion.

* * *

They trekked back through the woods towards the _Pearl_. Jack made sure to make plenty of noise and trample a clear path so that Pintel would be able to follow if he was so inclined, but other than that it was a pretty quiet trip until Ragetti finally said, a little sadly: "You really didn't need to do that, you know. 'E likes to think 'e's the smart one and now you've gone and hurt his feelings." 

But before anyone could answer Jack gasped and slapped a hand to his neck. Barbossa turned to see what was the matter and suddenly found that he, too, had been stuck with a poison dart. The world began to fuzz immediately. "Not so good," Jack observed. "Spose we shouldn't have such a clear trail..."

The dart meant for Ragetti had gotten stuck in his wooden eyeball, and it twitched around uncertainly. Barbossa grabbed his arm to steady himself. "Run to the ship," he ordered, slurred half to hell no matter how hard he tried to enunciate. "Have her wait for us just offshore, mind the tides, whatever you do don't ye dare let the _Pearl _get beached here. We'll be along… in a minute… _Go, _idiot!"

Ragetti ran off and Barbossa collapsed, satisfied that at least there were arrangements for a getaway if they could escape the immediate problem that surrounded them.

Jack was just lying on his back laughing, "Oh, look at the birds, mate, I've never seen them dance like that, have you?"

Barbossa looked over at him and said to nobody in particular: "You'll notice nobody ever accuses Jack of bein the brains of _our _operation."

* * *

"Jack... Jack?... Jaaaaaaack." 

"All _right, _mate, I hear you fine. Give us a minute. _Oh _bugger,my head…"

They were lying on the ground in the midst of a very fierce chattering crowd. As soon as Jack opened his eyes, the most illustrious-looking cannibal began to lecture him. Jack stood slowly and tried to get his brain up to speed after all that poison so that he could translate. "They're very... very purple. No, sorry, they said _upset, _they're very upset. Because... I... err... deceived them. Yes, that's it, because I let them think I was an elephant - sorry, a _god_ - when in fact I... I'm only... only the what? Only the shoe? No, bugger I'm slow today, _servant, _I'm only the servant of the real god. Oh. Aha." He faced Barbossa and smiled. "They mean you."

"Sounds all right so far." Barbossa got to his feet. "Perhaps y'oughta bow."

Jack immediately put his forehead in the dirt and got the cannibals to follow suit. He continued to translate from there. "All right, they want you to sing- no, _speak_."

Barbossa faced the cannibal crowd and gave them his best angry bellow. "Want me to speak, y'mindless sacks of fish entrails? Hmm? _Arrr_! Make me shout with a gut shot, eh? The lot of ya! I'll stew you!" He gestured at them all, pointing, threatening.

Jack listened. "They're very impressed. And they say... hold on, let me see..." He talked back and forth for a bit.

"Well?" Barbossa finally demanded. "What's that jabber?"

"They've agreed to cook you up a spectacular dinner to honor you... my thought was we could get them drunk during the feast and then run away... but the problem is, they say pickings have been rather slim lately and the only worthy thing to eat is _me_."

Barbossa's eyebrows went up as he considered it. "Bad luck, Jack."

"You do realize that once they eat me they're going to eat _you _next?"

That got Barbossa's attention all right. "Well there's bad and then there's _bad_," he snapped. "We can't have this. What should we do?"

Jack was striking poses and encouraging the cannibals to appreciate his delicious physique. "We play along, obviously. Get them to take us up the mountain - that's where they usually hold their parties - because down here they know the woods a lot better than we do and we wouldn't get far. We'll have to get them up there and give them the slip. Somehow."

* * *

"Now what?" Barbossa growled as his subjects corralled him onto a throne and started tying Jack to a spit. 

"Stop asking me that!" Jack hissed at him. "You have to do some thinking too for a change!"

"_For a change_?" Barbossa echoed. "You insolent little worm, I'm tempted to just let them cook ye."

"Think of something or you just might get your wish!"

"We need time!" The high-priest-looking person was approaching Jack with a torch, and in the nick of time Barbossa thought something up. "Translate this: tell them I like my offerings boiled, not burnt. It'll give us another hour while they get a pot and heat up the water."

"Does the phrase _out of the frying pan _mean anything to you?" When he got only a withering glare in reply, Jack did as he was told.

So Jack soon found himself sitting in a giant cauldron of soup waiting to be boiled alive. At first the water was too cold, and then for a few blessed minutes it was completely perfect, and then it became a little too warm. And then even warmer.

"Any ideas yet, mate?"

Barbossa was still sitting on the throne, surrounded by cannibals with spears, looking appropriately dispirited. "Still thinking." He shifted nervously in his seat. "In another minute I'm going to take out my gun and shoot someone and just hope for the best."

"No!" Jack answered with enough vehemence to make some of the worshippers sit up and take notice. "_No. _If we can't think of a way out of this I am going to need that bullet for myself. Don't you dare waste it - you have no idea what it's like in here."

Barbossa rose from his throne. "Oh, shut up – you can't be talkin about a bullet _already_! You were fine a minute ago. Here – let me see that." He came over and stuck his hand in the water to test it, hoping to get a better idea of just how big an emergency it was.

The water was much hotter than he had expected, and he jerked backwards with a sharp hiss.

Jack suddenly looked very alert. "Do that again."

Barbossa was waving his hand around to cool the sting. "No."

"Ah. Why?"

"Because it hur-" It took everything he had to keep his poker face. "That pot you're sittin in... 'twould make a pretty fine weapon, would it not."

"Exactly. On the count of three we'll shove it that way, topple the thing, soak most of the-"

"No. Not yet." Barbossa stepped closer and lowered his voice. "We'll wait til it's practically boiling, so it'll scald everyone to where they can't follow us."

"Hello! Do us a favor and actually think about that: the pot should be _practically boiling_? I am _sitting _in the pot! It's too bloody hot as it is – get me out of here."

"No." Barbossa put his hand in the water again and splashed it around a little. "We've only got one chance and I won't risk it." He withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers. "Tell them to pile on some more wood. The sooner it's dangerous the sooner ye can come out. Go on," he added when Jack just closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "I'm the one with the leverage from out here. Just tell them."

Jack wished he meant _literally _the leverage to topple the cauldron – in other words, _don't worry, no matter how bad off you are I'll still be able to get you out_. But he thought it much more likely that Barbossa meant _do it or I'll let them cook you, _and so he did as he was told.

* * *

Barbossa prowled around the clearing until he deemed it time. He pretended to be smelling the stew and whispered to Jack: "All right, here we go." He took a deep breath, laid his hands under the lip of the cauldron, then in one smooth motion bent his knees and set his shoulder against it and heaved. 

It rocked, Jack yelped, and he did it again. This time it went over. Near-boiling water spilled out, killing the fire and dousing much of the crowd.

Unsurprisingly, all hell broke loose. Steam from the ruined fire blanketed the whole area, and the hiss of it combined with the screams of everyone who had been burnt helped create a moment for Barbossa to get around the cauldron and drag Jack into its shade. Before anybody thought to grab hold of the pot, Barbossa had got them all the way inside, then lurched forward. He braced himself against the walls to hang on as they started to roll. The cauldron clunked down from the pyre and began to roll out of the clearing entirely.

Barbossa thought _he _had it bad, jolting around in unbearable agony when he should be in bed with someone (preferably Elizabeth) bringing him soup and rum, but Jack was worse off – he had not braced himself against the walls and was therefore loose inside the giant pot, bouncing around and smashing into it with every revolution as they picked up speed. They were heading down the mountain, ricocheting off trees and flattening all manner of plants and small animals in their path.

_Downhill is good. Downhill leads to the sea, _Barbossa reminded himself. _And keep your lunch down. If ye spew in here... _They were doing all right until they hit a bump, skipped high into the air, and crashed down into a rocky gorge. The impact was so jarring that Barbossa's head slammed back into the metal behind him and he blacked out.

When he woke up a few seconds later he was so disoriented that he found he had to crawl. Jack was nearby, lying flat, his arm over his face. "Jack. Up. If they find us it's back into the pot for ye. _Up_." Jack only whimpered when he was touched, and didn't stand. "Oh, shut it! You don't hear _me_ complainin. Move if ye don't want to get stomped on." The thought flitted through his head that perhaps he should just leave Jack here and run, but he ignored it.

At last Jack stood up gingerly and took a few steps. "I think I hate you."

The narrowness of their escape had so unnerved Barbossa that civility was not an option. It was either show some relief or lash out, and true to form the captain opted for the latter. "Of course you do, and I lose sleep over it every single night," he snarled. "Now _start running, _you woman." He grabbed Jack by the arm and ignored (enjoyed) his gasp of pain and dragged him off.

* * *

They made it back to the ship without any further trouble (unless you counted Jack's constant whining as _trouble_). 

They put to sea. Jack went below to see what he could do for his full-body burn and Barbossa was in no mood to go help. Instead, he took out most of his rage at the cannibals on poor Ragetti, and then had him left tied in the rigging all afternoon as a reminder to the rest of the pirates that treachery would not be tolerated. He could see he was scaring the living daylights out of Elizabeth's boy, but was in such misery after the day's adventures that afterwards he just went and passed out in his cabin without a word beyond: "The lesson there be that you don't steal from your captain. Out of my way."

Later that evening he came back up on deck to order the prisoner cut down, and found that somebody had already released him – _contrary to Captain's express orders_. Yarrrrr. He strongly suspected that the only one who would brave his wrath at this point was Ragetti's best friend, so Barbossa prowled the deck in something of a killin mood looking for them. He eventually found the two hapless pirates attempting to steal a boat. "Why, d'you think, don't this surprise me?" he grated from behind them.

Their instinctive reaction was to jump and collide with each other. Typical Thriyaiafbrain. Barbossa counted to five (four and a half.) "I beg ye be so good as to tell me what you were planning?"

"Huh?" "Eh?" they asked at the same time, with complimentary looks of confusion.

The captain turned on Pintel, who was clearly (what passed for) the brains of the operation. "Even _if _you thought he could row – which he can't – how far exactly did you think you'd get with no food and no water and the _Pearl _comin after you to blow you to pieces?"

"I- we was just-" Pintel frowned.

"'E didn't do nothin," Ragetti spoke up. "Anyhow, it already been established who's responsible for anything stupid what gets done between us, right? So I suppose by the rules it's my fault anyway."

Pintel slapped him in the back of the head. "Lissen to yourself, idjit! How can _anything _be your fault when you're fainted? Some brains _you _are - that don't make no sense at all!"

Ragetti rubbed his head. "Ow! Well neither does whacking me, when I'm only tryin to-"

"Enough!" Barbossa barked, admitting to himself without much grace that Thriyaiafbrain had passed the loyalty test with flying colors. "You – two-eyes – take him below, clean him up, and if you value your miserable life don't let him talk anymore!" He watched them hurry away and shouted after them, "And the two of you idiots are henceforth to be punished for each other's mistakes! So believe me: if you give me an excuse, I will personally gut the both of you!"

Giving vent to his temper was so satisfying that he didn't notice anything was wrong until Willie spoke up from beside him. "Captain? You're bleeding again, sir. Lots."

He looked down at himself and shrugged. "Well, I must admit that don't surprise me none either." He barely remembered not to add aloud: _I'll sort it all out at World's End. _

"Can I help you to the cabin, then? You did promise I could trail you all day long," he added over the captain's growl.

Out-maneuvered by a child? Almost mentioning World's End out loud in front of the crew? Perhaps it was time for some rest after all.

* * *

The stop at the cannibal island had been mostly a complete disaster. They had gained nothing, save two nearly-useless crew members and a pair of cannibal children who had formed an inexplicable attachment to Pintel and followed him to the ship. 

They had lost some very important time.

The captains were looking over their shoulders at every turn, expecting the _Dutchman_. They were _not _expecting Norrington, so when a Navy ship appeared on the horizon a few days later, gaining on them, they were very surprised and not at all happy. Although not exactly afraid.

Jack and Barbossa stood passing the spyglass back and forth. "Could be a good thing," Jack suggested, "Because if we rob them we may not have to stop for supplies in Singapore."

Barbossa snorted. "Aye. My sympathies, Jack – I know you were looking forward to a few days with those poxy women."

"Wasn't looking forward to the poxy ones," Jack muttered back.

A voice from Barbossa's elbow: "How do you know which ones are poxy?"

Both captains turned to face him, surprised and unable to keep straight faces. "Willie, son, g'won out of here," Jack ordered. "We're talking."

"You're the one said if I don't ask questions I'll never learn anything, Captain."

Jack sighed. "Yes, but that was when I wanted you to annoy _him_, not _me_. Go on."

"Why don't you explain about poxy whores to the kid," Barbossa teased. "I'll go get the crew movin. What think you? Fight?"

"You know me, mate. I'd say parlay."

"Perhaps run… we could use the oars, put some distance between us and then lose them. They can't possibly have charts to where we're goin."

"No, I still say parlay. They probably want the kid. What else could they want?" _Unless Davy's sent them and they just want our heads… _Jack shut his mind to that train of thought. "I say we keep sailing and eventually they'll catch up and then we'll handle them the way we always do: get what we want and not leave too big a trail of dead bodies, on either side. What say you to that?"

"Fair enough." Barbossa glared at Willie. "Last time, ye made a terrible hostage. Jack, explain to the kid what he's to do and not to do. If he fouls it up again I'm going to kill him." He limped off and Jack made faces at his back. Willie had sense enough not to follow suit.

* * *

TBC. Sorry this one took so long. Next one oughta be quicker. Happy holidays and all that. 

Review!!!


	20. Then: the Governor receives a visitor

**A few years pre-accord. The Governor receives a visitor.**

* * *

"A visitor, Governor." 

Swann took one more quick look in his mirror and then headed downstairs. He was expecting nobody today. Who on earth could it be? He was not in the mood to entertain some old-

He saw who it was and his strained smile was immediately replaced by something a little more genuine. "Why- Captain Norrington! How good to see you - do come in. We'll go to my study." Norrington seemed stiff, almost nervous, but Swann pretended not to notice. "So. _Captain, _now. How does it feel?"

"It's... it's an honor, sir. It really is. Err. Well."

"Well? I'd never wish to rush you, _Captain_, but I'm sure you're a very busy man these days. What did you want to see me about?"

Norrington swallowed hard. "I asked to see you because I... because..." he broke off and looked away. "This is so difficult. Governor, it's about your daughter."

"About my daughter!" Swann was delighted - for some time he had been expecting this fine young man to ask permission to court Elizabeth, and now that he was here he was nervous as a schoolgirl! It was adorable.

"I... I am sure my feelings for her are no secret, sir. I have known Miss Swann since she was a child and I have always held her in the highest esteem and affection. And so now... now..."

"Now...?" the Governor prompted. "Would you care for a drink, Captain?"

"No thank you, sir." Norrington sat up even straighter. (Swann tried hard to think _how dignified_, and not let the words "stick" and "up his" enter his mind.) After another deep breath Norrington finally managed to finish his sentence. "And so now it pains me to hurt her. But something has come to my attention that I feel it is my duty to share with you."

Swann tried not to look shaken. "S-something?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir. I feel I must inform you that Miss Swann is... that she has attracted inappropriate attention from a young man who is little better than a servant, sir, and that she..." At the last second Norrington lost his nerve and revised the rest of his sentence, which was meant to have been: _reciprocates. _"Sir I would never presume to impugn your daughter's honor or question her virtue," he said quickly. "It's just that she is young, and the young are easily deceived, and I just want to be sure that she's protected, sir. I feel I would be remiss in my duties to her and to you if I did not share my concern."

"I see." The Governor realized how icy his voice had become, and tried to thaw it. "I assume you are referring to the blacksmith's boy?"

"Yes, sir. You knew of this?"

"Rest assured I know all about that poor creature's infatuation," Swann sighed. "He and Elizabeth played together as children - without my permission, of cour-"

"But with your knowledge and tacit approval, sir," Norrington interrupted as respectfully as he could manage. "I believe Miss Swann would not have continued otherwise."

Humiliating as it was to be judged by someone young enough to be his son, Swann swallowed his pride and nodded. Norrington would go far, and would be a wonderful match for Elizabeth - _if _he could be made to propose to her. It would not do to have him think her disobedient and wilful. "Perhaps I saw no harm in it when they were children," Swann allowed, a little defensively, "But for some time now I have taken pains to see that the boy crosses paths with Elizabeth as seldom as possible."

"Well, Governor, it appears that he has never forgotten her. Nor she him - the other day a bit of her hat was lost to the wind, and out of nowhere the boy appeared and fetched it for her. They exchanged words, beyond simply a _thank you _and _happy to be of service, Miss Swann. _I couldn't hear what was said, but the duration... it was only just barely within the realm of seemliness. I worry for her, sir."

Swann knew all about the incident - Elizabeth had come bursting into his study that night, gushing about how _tall _and _handsome _Will had become, how he had caught her feather for her and they'd been reminded of the flying machine they had once tried to build by plucking all the birds on her father's property. "And he remembered, Father, how I tried to take the blame for him and he for me, and we laughed at how silly children are and how it never crossed our minds that we were both covered in dirt and feathers and it was probably quite clear to everyone that we'd both done it... And he remembered it all, Father, and he wished me well and he really _has _gotten taller..."

But the Governor nodded resolutely in Norrington's direction. "I appreciate your concern, Captain. I had not expected the boy to resurface. I shall have someone speak to him gently, and if his subsequent behavior leaves anything to be desired I shall have my men communicate a bit more clearly, if you take my meaning. And I'll speak to Elizabeth about it myself."

The answer seemed to satisfy the young officer. "I apologize if I have caused you any pain, sir..."

"Not at all, Captain," Swann said easily. The gratitude was only half-pretend. He _did _resent the intrusion into his family's private life, but on the other hand, if Elizabeth's partiality to that boy was strong enough to be noticed, then it did have to be addressed. "One can never be too vigilant where virtuous young ladies are concerned. They must be guarded at every turn. It's good to know you feel the same way."

"Yes, well I... Governor there is a related matter I wish to... that is, with your permission, sir, I would like to- to express a most respectful and, and tender interest in your daughter. Governor. If- with your permission - if such sentiments would not be displeasing to Miss Swann, then perhaps I might- I..." It suddenly struck Swann how fortunate it was that the Captain's tendency to stutter under stress did not manifest itself in battle. _I- with your permission, sir, I- I believe perhaps we, we might... we might wish to return fire at once, before it- if you'll permit the expression, before it becomes too late, sir..._

Swann did not tell Norrington that he quickened Elizabeth's heart about as much as a teakettle, or that, come to think of it, she did show more interest in her teakettle than in him. _But that will change with age, _he told himself determinedly. Eventually Elizabeth would be ready to take a husband, and here was a very promising prospect (providing, of course, that he eventually learned to speak like a human being.) So it was time to be diplomatic.

"I am sure a man with your perception has already seen that my daughter's heart in many ways is still the heart of a child - not yet a woman," Swann said with a warm smile. "I foresee a bright future for you, Captain Norrington, and I would be honored for you to express an interest in Elizabeth... as soon as you deem it appropriate to do so." _In other words, young man, let's wait a bit and be sure this "bright future" crystalizes into something worthy - after all, she IS a Governor's daughter - and let's wait for her to outgrow this pining for a servant, and THEN I'll see about prodding her in the right direction._

Despite the orders to wait, Norrington was glowing with pleasure when the Governor shook his hand and saw him off. _He'll be after Elizabeth for certain, _Swann thought. He told himself she would be glad of it. In any case she should be. She should.

* * *

TBC. 

**Unikorn**: Eek! Are you a mindreader? I won't say just yet which, but some of your comments make me want to put on one of those tin-foil helmets to keep the ESP spies out. Although I honestly don't see Norrington coming through at the end. I don't think his human-being streak will win out. But I'm usually wrong, so we'll see...

More on this later - I'm determined not to put in any spoilers yet!

So hey guys, it's the holidays - you're off from school/work/whatever - write me a review!


	21. Now: Barbossa makes a deal

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I threw a New Years Eve party that sort of reminded me of the bar in Tortuga... I'm still recovering :o)

* * *

The white flag was up, and Norrington hadn't run out the guns. So far so good. "Do you want to do the talking or should I?" Jack asked. 

Barbossa shrugged. "You. I don't feel well."

Jack frowned, because he knew that in Barbossaspeak that meant _I feel like I'm dying and I have no idea how to fix it and I'm scared to death. _"What's wrong?"

"I'm still bleedin, and it hurts. I'm hoping the problem be just that I pulled some stitches out running through the woods..."

Jack swallowed down his guilty feeling and tried to look unconcerned. "That's probably it, then."

"I don't think so. See this?" He spread his hands. "Burns from when I tilted over that damned pot for ye. They should have healed up by now, and haven't. I'm thinkin perhaps I've somehow run to the end of what Tia's magic'll do for me."

"Ah yes I see." Jack bit his lip. "So listen... before we talk about that... I have a favor I need from you. A very important one."

Barbossa asked the question with his eyebrows.

"It's quite easy, really," Jack explained. "All I need you to do is promise not to kill me when I tell you something."

He didn't yet lose his temper. "What have you done, Jack?" he asked, more resignation than anything else.

"Well, it's about what was left in that last little medicine bottle of yours..."

Barbossa froze. "You drank it."

"About three quarters," Jack admitted. "And then I cut it with wine so it wouldn't look empty. Listen..." His apology began normally, but by the end it became a rushed mess of words that was completely unintelligible. "I was in a really bad way after they cooked me mate and I was hoping it might work for you afterwards anyway and we can't both of us be falling apart at once and if you just rest a bit you've been getting better and you'll probably-"

"I could _die, _you idiot!" Barbossa interrupted, whacking him in the face because shouting just wouldn't cover it this time. "And do you actually think you can finish this trip alone? Do you think you can get the crew in hand and beat Davy to World's End and perform Tia's witchery and fetch me and Turner back yourself? Hmm? Do you?"

"I…" Jack swallowed. "Er… yes? Probably? Besides, after all, there's no guarantee anything'll happen to you. I think you'll probably be fine… don't you?"

"No, in fact, I don't." Barbossa put a finger to Jack's lips to keep him quiet and Jack crossed his eyes to look down at it, having a very bad feeling about where this was going. Sure enough, he soon felt Barbossa's other hand close carefully around his throat. "Get out of my sight, Jack Sparrow," he whispered, "Before I shoot you dead and leave the _Pearl _with no captain at all." He let go and stepped back and Jack ran for it.

* * *

When Norrington finally got his ship within shouting distance, the first thing he heard was: "_I want to speak to the peacock alone!_" 

There was a buzz of confusion until Norrington explained, through gritted teeth: "He means me. I suppose I'll oblige him."

"Do you really think that's wise?" Governor Swann murmured from beside him. "I certainly don't."

"Well I'm not going to go over _there_." Norrington tried not to sound impatient. (He preferred Gilette's uncertain "As...as you wish, sir...", because it always got him to reconsider a bad decision _without _making him feel like he was being second-guessed in front of his men.) He raised his voice and shouted over the divide: "Then come on over! I'll accord you the full rights of parlay as pirates understand them. Where's Jack?"

"Hiding. Where's Elizabeth?"

"Hidden. I'm afraid she's none of your business, Captain." Norrington decided to take charge in order to set the tone for the negotiations. "Now, I'll put a plank across, and you'll come over. Or else we'll go at it the way we always do - with real cannonballs, this time, and no quarter!"

Barbossa hesitated. "Aye, I'll come over. But Elizabeth's boy stays here, and if anythin happens to me, he gets it."

He crossed over and followed Norrington down to his cabin and after perfunctory hellos, opened the negotiations himself: "Apparently I haven't got as much to lose as I thought," he said bitterly. "I've hurt m'self again and Jack drank the potion that could've kept me going. Now, word be that taking home a captain of the _Black Pearl _could get you out of a lot of trouble, and it seems ye could get the _Pearl _out of a lot of trouble in return, so... things bein what they are... I'm willin to make an offer."

Norrington knew that each and every time they'd talked terms together in the past, Barbossa had negotiated him straight over a barrel. This time, though, Norrington thought he heard something a little different in the pirate's voice. He thought he had a chance. Or perhaps it was just that with the recent enslavement of a good friend on his conscience he felt cold and hard enough to handle anyone... In any case, he stood up tall and crossed his arms and didn't fidget. "I'm listening."

After fifteen minutes of heated discussion, they shook hands. Norrington gave orders and his men began calmly carrying all their own food and water and ammunition over to the _Pearl _without a fuss.

The pirates had never been encouraged to ask questions of their captains, but in case any of them took to wondering what was going on, Barbossa explained with a perfect deadpan: "I just beat their leader in single combat." Amazingly, most of the crew seemed to believe him.

Jack was not quite that gullible, so Barbossa tried a different approach: bellowing at him. "Shut up! Have I ever fouled a parlay, Jack? Ever? Hmm? So shut your cavernous leaking hole for once in your miserable life and just trust me! I did a _beautiful_ job – we even get to keep Elizabeth for the trip. Now shut it! Didn't I say to get out of my sight?"

Jack swallowed down his questions about the terms of the deal for now, and didn't deem it prudent to mention that because he was standing behind Barbossa, he was technically out of his sight already.

* * *

Elizabeth was anxious. She had tried her very best to eavesdrop on the negotiations, but guards kept marching by and scaring her off and she'd only gotten bits and pieces. Norrington snapping, "I don't believe you. Yes I _know _you've never yet failed to honor a deal, but... this? Forgive me if I can't quite wrap my mind round it..." And then later: "Supposing I say yes. When can I do it?" 

"Certainly not now. You'll have to wait until we've sailed most of the way there and we're sure of making it. I'll pay up then. Look at me, you brainless cockroach," Barbossa growled over the Commodore's interruption. "- Do I _look _like I could run off on you? I'll be lucky to last the whole voyage. Crew's already takin bets on whether I'll buy it this week or next."

"Sorry to hear it," Norrington said, not sounding sorry at all. He sighed. "I suppose you've always played reasonably straight with me, so I'll agree to wait. But the _moment_ we are in sight of wherever we're going..."

"Agreed."

Pay up? Elizabeth racked her brains and still couldn't put the pieces together. What did the pirates have that Norrington wanted so badly? It had to be more than just her son. Perhaps something to do with Gilette? Perhaps some kind of mythical treasure so farfetched she'd never even heard of it?

She knew she should try to ask Barbossa what the deal was, but she found herself suddenly too afraid of the captain to even approach him. She waved hello when she was first brought aboard, and then spent an hour following him around at a distance, desperate to talk to him about World's End but terrified in case he said no.

Finally somebody gave her a nudge. As she stood on deck watching Barbossa pace around the wheel, her son came and took her hand. "Unless it's important I don't think you should go up there," Willie advised. "The captain hasn't been feeling well and he likes to be alone."

Elizabeth was amused enough to take a break from her worrying. "Is that so?"

"Yes." Willie didn't seem to hear the note of possessiveness that had snuck into his voice. "_I'm_ allowed to talk to him whenever I want, though."

"Then perhaps you'd best come with me," she said, feeling a little guilty for using her son as a shield but still unable to handle this alone. "I have a question for him and I'm afraid if he says no I'll faint." She led Willie to the foot of the stairs and called up to the captain.

He came to the top of the staircase, all bland politeness. "Aye, miss?"

She had to swallow twice. "Wh- where are we going? Tell me the truth. Please."

There was a moment of silence, and then he nodded.

The next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes and Barbossa was sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at her. "You fainted."

She struggled into a sitting position. "I did not!"

"Very well, I clubbed ye and carried ye off to my cabin when nobody was lookin. D'you like that one better?"

"Much." She arranged herself to sit cross-legged against the wall. "Well I remember now. I asked where we were going..."

"Meanin, presumably, am I sailin to World's End for that damnably annoying whelp you called husband. The answer be yes. Go on, say it," he added a moment later. "We both know you want to."

Her eyes were shining. "_Will,_" she breathed.

He chuckled. "I'd forgotten how much that annoys me."

She crawled towards him slowly and made him look her in the eyes and tell her it was true. They were going for Will. _She was going to see Will again!! _Will Will Will Will Will!

She threw her arms around him and squealed into his collar and kissed him on the temple and then the cheek, and he was grumbling about overeager puppy dogs and trying to fend her off. But then, totally overwhelmed with joy, she kissed him on the lips and he seemed to have no problem with _that. _In fact he kissed back and for a split second she thought to wonder exactly what he might want from her and whether or not she would give it-

And then he pulled away with a sharp gasp. "Y'can't squeeze me."

After a quick glance down to the bloody bandage, she murmured, "You shouldn't make this trip."

She'd spoken without thinking and they both froze, jaws on the floor. She recovered first. "I mean, it could be dangerous to do it now, that's all I mean. You should wait until you're a little better - you know how dangerous-"

"If we waited, we'd run the risk of Davy stepping in," he reminded her. "It's now, when the Kraken's hurt and Davy's promised me time alone and Norrington's watchin our back... now's our chance."

"I... I don't know what to say," she whispered at last. She hugged him again, gentler this time. "I can't believe this. I mean... _anything _for a chance for Will, you know that. But I also - so does Willie - I also worry for you, too. So please be c-"

He dislodged her and stood up. "What have I told ye about worryin for me?" he reminded. "It's a waste of time, miss."

He could still taste her and he thought he must be utterly crazy to go through with the trip, especially as she had just given him a perfectly valid reason to call it off. But on the other hand he certainly wasn't recovering anyhow, and he _did _owe Will and there was that deal with Norrington and the promise to Jack and what about Davy... so many conflicting conerns that it was too late to plan something new out now.

_Die's cast,_ he thought. Which reminded him, with Davy back in the picture it was probably time to brush up on his Deception again. He _arrr_ed at Elizabeth to suggest that she leave him alone, and went off to look for Jack

* * *

Gilette was lurking in the shadows picking at his chest, which had begun to turn rough and flaky. He had a feeling it was going to harden into coral, and it occurred to him that it would be extremely uncomfortable for the next woman he took to bed unless he kept his shirt on. And then it occurred to him that it might never matter, because he might never get another chance to take a woman to bed at all. 

It was the closest he had yet come to allowing himself to think about his future.

"Evening, sailor."

The voice came from about six inches behind him, and he squeaked and turned to face his captain in abject terror. "I- I'm sorry Captain I didn't hear you coming," he babbled, straightening up into a salute. How mortifying, to be caught by his superior sighing and mooning over himself like a lovelorn teenager!

"At ease," Jones chuckled. "I'm not really for all that posturing."

Gilette relaxed only a fraction, and wished he dared take a step backwards. "Yes sir."

"I have no interest in you save as an instrument with which to torture your friend." He produced a pipe out of one of the ragged pockets of his coat, and packed it calmly. "Is there anything you want to tell me about him?"

He lit a match and Gilette couldn't tear his eyes away from the little chimney on the side of his face. "Well?" Jones pressed after a moment of silence. "The poor thing was so broken up about leaving you to me. Is he in love with you?"

"I-in love? Commodore Norrington in love with _me_?" Gilette shook his head emphatically and didn't soften the scorn in his tone. "That's ridiculous."

A cloud of smoke issued forth from all of Davy's facial orifices. "Then why?"

The correct answer - that Norrington was a good man who took his responsibilities to his inferiors very seriously, and was willing to protect them at any and all personal cost - was probably something one ought not to share with Davy Jones. Gilette improvised a prayer very quickly: _Lord protect me from this perversion of the splendour of Your creation, _and tried not to look at him. Rumour had it that the monster was impossible to lie to if you looked him in the eyes. "I've no idea, captain. I expect you just caught him off guard forcing him into a corner like that. The Commodore hates to be bullied, sir, that's all. I mean nothing to him and he's probably already forgotten about me by now."

He thought perhaps he had pulled it off, but then a cloud of smoke wreathed his head as Davy leaned very close to him and breathed, "_Liar_" into his ear.

It seemed life on the _Flying Dutchman _was going to be even harder than he'd expected.

* * *

TBC. 

Sorry for the comparatively short and talky chapter, BUT...

A while back, somebody asked about "implied" naughtiness. Next chapter, if read by somebody who's chaste and innocent, will be chaste and innocent. However, for those of you with dirty minds...

It's basically ready to go. Thanks to all who reviewed.

**JeanieBeanie33:** oh man, I do hope Willie gets a chance to mention poxy whores to his parents. I'm sure they'll be thrilled hehe.


	22. Now: Willie loses his job

A/N: In this chapter there is a B/E scene that could - or could not - be naughty. I leave it up to your imagination. I'm not saying for sure that _nothing _happened or that _something _happened. You think whatever you want to think.

* * *

After reaching his secret accord with Norrington, Barbossa was not able to spend much time around Jack because all Jack did was search for ever more creative, annoying, unsuccessful ways to grill him about it, and still he couldn't bring himself to explain. 

He was not able to spend much time around Elizabeth either, because he was afraid he might start to kiss her again and that was not a good habit to get into if he actually intended to turn her over to her dead husband in the end. More importantly, although he was not as sick as he'd told Norrington, he was certainly not as healthy as he encouraged Elizabeth to think. He would prefer her not to see him limping and wincing and bleeding all over the place, so he found as many excuses as possible to keep out of her way when the pain was bad.

Which, unfortunately, was most of the time. Luckily, though, there was one person on board who remained in awe of him no matter how long it took him to stand up, who would help him walk from place to place without being tempted to stab him in the back, and who was both fearless enough to address Barbossa with sentences beginning "Do you need...", and intelligent enough to interpret a furious growl as _yes_.

One day Willie was sitting and watching, fascinated, as Barbossa wiped down his cutlass. "How old is that sword?" he asked reverently. 

"No idea. I've had it since I was thirteen."

"Where did you get it?"

Barbossa didn't take his eyes from the blade. "It was a present," he said with a sinister sort of chuckle. A moment later he added: "In a manner of speakin. I killed somebody for it."

Long pause. "Oh." Willie looked a little worried, and considered saying: _if you fancy anything of mine, please just tell me first and I'll give it over._

"Hand me that rag. There was a man on my ship always took care of me. I thought he might be my father." Barbossa laughed at himself, a little derisively. "Always saw I was fed, taught me to fight, that sort of thing." He scrubbed a little harder, frowning. "And why take in a boy who's no relation to you, eh? Who'd do somethin so stupid. I'll bet I'm his son, I thought. Here." He tossed the rag back to Willie and turned his sword to catch the light.

"So me friend had a sword," he continued. "This sword. Rag again- aye." He had noticed a bit of blood caked into the guard, and began to scrub at it.

Willie thought he knew where the story was going now. A tale of revenge, of a boy taking his father's weapon to pay back his cruel murderer...

"He promised it to me - promised everythin, in fact. _All I own's to you when I die, boy, _he'd say, and I'd think, see, stands to reason he's probly me father. Right?"

"I suppose so," Willie agreed.

"Well. Then came my thirteenth birthday. And he came and said he had a present for me." Barbossa looked down the blade and was finally satisfied with the shine. "Hand that oil- aye, that. So. A present. Thought us family for sure then. 'Twas a flask, what separates the boys from the men. The right to be y'rown master of when it be time to work, and when to be drunk."

Willie understood all about marks of responsibility, but _his _had taken the form of a mere pocket-watch, and he found himself somewhat jealous. Being a pirate certainly had its charms...

"I was proud t'be old enough for the flask. Course, the problem was, me friend decided that thirteen be also old enough for what he _really _wanted me for. And it wasn't for a son."

There was a moment of silence. "I don't understand..."

Barbossa wiped the extra oil from his blade and ran his finger along it carefully. "So's it doesn't rust," he explained, though he knew full well the boy wasn't asking about the sword. He nodded. "Twould be a shame if you _did_. Suffice it to say he meant me harm... of the gravest sort... and a dagger ended itself up buried in his belly. And that's how I got this sword," he finished brightly.

Willie stared at him and finally came up with: "I'm sorry."

Barbossa shrugged. "So was I. After a while, anyhow. Got lonely without a father."

"Yes I know. A pretend father's a whole lot better than no father at all." Willie didn't hear the change in his own voice, and since his eyes had dropped to the deck he didn't catch the captain's look of horror. He had no idea at all why Barbossa chose that moment to whack him upside the head and order him aloft.

And he couldn't figure out why Barbossa was hesitant to tell him any more stories.

* * *

After Willie's sudden fall from grace, Barbossa found himself in need of a new nursemaid. He still couldn't quite stomach Jack, but they were still at least a week off World's End and under no circumstances was he prepared to die early, so that left... "_ELIZABETH!!_" 

She was by his side at once. "I was wondering when you'd deign to speak to me again," she sniffed. "Well, it hardly matters - Jack and I have been having a wonderful time together. Haven't we, Jack?"

Jack was still rubbing his cheek, which still stung from the latest of Elizabeth's vicious slaps. "Oh, quite," he grumbled. "Even better today than ever. Lizzie, darling, I was only saying-"

"_Only say _it again, Jack, and I will _only _slap you another one!" she said fiercely. "_Only say _it in front of my son, and I swear, I'll _only _put you over my knee right here!"

Jack's mouth opened but before he could provoke her any more, Barbossa jumped in, loud and cold: "Oh, so he's forgiven you for that time you betrayed him and left him to die, has he?"

Abruptly all the fun went out of her. "Wh- what was that for? I mean I-"

Jack frowned at him in confusion for a moment, then put an arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and said stoutly, "Yes, in point of fact I have. We can't let a little thing like that come between us, love, now can we?" He leaned in and whispered to her, "Don't mind him, darling - it's just that he's miserable. Go take care of him."

She nodded and put an arm around the captain's waist as he stood up slowly. He hesitated a moment, then admitted: "I apologize, miss - it's been rougher than you'd believe."

She melted immediately, and without thinking, turned and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Let's go inside and we'll sort it all out." She got him into the cabin and was startled half out of her wits to find Willie already there, sitting on the bed and kicking his feet and looking absolutely forlorn.

He hopped off the bed at once. "Don't you need me to-"

"No," Barbossa cut him off. "Nursin people is wenches' work, boy, you're well rid of it. Get out."

"But-"

"Out!" he roared, then regretted it immediately when he saw stars and Willie started to cry. "All right, go pester Jack," he suggested more quietly. "Get him to play a game or somethin. Let your mother earn her keep for a change - you've done well enough already."

Willie smiled at that and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Elizabeth _tsk_ed at him (before remembering that any and all handkerchiefs aboard had long since been converted into bandages) and then passed him off to Jack.

She winced when the first words out of Jack's mouth were "So, what say we explode something!" but thought Willie would probably be able to keep him in line.

* * *

But even exploding things under Jack's expert tutelage was not enough to take Willie's mind off today's stinging rejection. For no apparent reason he had been deposed from his position of captain's favored servant, and even though the job was hard and often thankless and got his ears boxed much more frequently than was deserved, he missed it already. 

So after half an hour he complained to Jack of a stomachache and got himself excused. He loitered around outside the cabin door for a bit and finally got up the nerve to knock. "Mother?" No answer, so he repeated it louder. "_Mother."_

"_Shhh, _darling, Mama hasn't even started yet. He fell asleep. Go on and wash up and say your prayers and I'll be out to put you to bed in a moment. All right?"

"Yes Mama," he sighed, resigned. But after a moment of thought he decided to stick around. After enough bleeding and medication Barbossa was prone to drifting off to sleep without warning, and when he woke up from these catnaps, he was often in the very foulest of moods. This meant that the slightest misstep on his mother's part could get her thrown out, which might in turn give _him _another chance to get his job back. He heard Barbossa start to come awake, growling, "What- Elizabeth? What happened?"

"Shh. You nodded off," she explained. Willie could hear from her voice that she was sitting in a chair not too close to the bed, which was in fact the safest place to be when Barbossa woke up. While the captain was asleep, Willie sometimes found it tempting to curl up with him and snooze next to someone else's warmth and heartbeat. Problem was, if he ever woke up before you did, and he caught you cuddling, you were _really _in for it.

But Elizabeth seemed to have kept a safe distance. "It's all right - just sit back, here I come." There was the rustling and clattering of a pirate being undressed and then: "Oh!- what's this?"

"That's called _scar._"

Now Willie suspected that it was _Elizabeth _who was going to fly off the handle; at any moment he would hear her voice shrill up and give a brutal lecture about the evils of wisecracking...

But she only laughed and chided gently, "Be serious."

Barbossa sighed. "Grappling hook."

"How about this one?"

"Mmm... knife. Or perhaps the knife's the one beside it... Miss, if you plan on askin about all of 'em you'll be here all night."

She giggled. "Oh? And you're so eager to get rid of me?"

All of a sudden Barbossa gurgled - loudly - and Willie felt a flash of pride. His wound-caring skills seemed to have far outstripped his mother's; _he _never forced those gaspy grunty noises out of the captain anymore when it was time to change bandages.

"No, don't you move," Elizabeth ordered.

"Sweet Jesus I'm a mess," Barbossa acknowledged a moment later. "Elizabeth, y'may be a pirate but you're still a lady. You shouldn't have to-"

"Perhaps not, but I _want _to," she insisted. "Besides, I'm no stranger to it."

He whimpered a little. "Y-you did for the boy?" he asked between harsh raspy breaths.

"Mm-hmm," she answered absently. "Come, you know how protective Will was. Remember how I almost died having the baby? And he said it almost killed _him _as well, he said he can't stand to see me suffer. I didn't know what would happen with a child, and he didn't want to worry, so... you know."

Oh, Willie knew all right. His mother had been absolutely _fanatical _about keeping any and all wear-and-tear on her son a secret from Will. The ritual was always the same: she'd clean him up, kiss him on the forehead when he'd stopped crying, and whisper _Don't tell your father about this, he'll worry. _Together, Willie and his mother had concealed bloody noses, broken fingers, a cracked rib, and all manner of childhood cuts and bruises. And she had usually let him get right back up and try whatever dangerous activity had caused the problem in the first place. _But CAREFULLY this time, Willie, all right? _was all she'd say about it.

"Seems you -_ah_- know what you're about, missie," Barbossa complimented breathlessly. "I suppose I should be thankin that -_mh_- husband of yours for bein so paranoid."

She snorted. "Somehow I don't think he'd be appreciative. Now quiet down, Captain - I'm busy."

"That you are."

A pause. "You all right?"

"You can... more... _aye, _s'right."

Willie rolled his eyes. The bleeding was bad and the captain moved around more than he should, so you were supposed to tie the bandage as tight as possible - not ask him every second whether this was right or that was too hard. _Silly Mama, _he thought contentedly. _I'd probably make a better pirate than her after all._

At the rate she was going it would probably take her the rest of the night, so Willie went off to find Jack and see if he wanted to explode any more things.

* * *

So for a brief few days Barbossa enjoyed Elizabeth's company basically every waking moment. Then, though, it occurred to him how this was all going to come to a screeching halt as soon as Norrington reappeared to demand payment, and the thought was so depressing that all of a sudden he stopped wanting much to do with her. 

He decided that even with all his frightening neediness, Willie was a more appealing option, because at least he would be less painful to lose when the time came. The worse he got the more he had to rely on the boy. Eventually he began considering whether the crew should have to call him "Mr. Turner," as "Willie" seemed insufficiently respectful towards someone without whom the ship could no longer be run. (Jack was still sulking over Barbossa's persistant refusal to share the plan with him, and preferred flirting with Elizabeth to doing useful work anyhow, so he wasn't much help.)

The _Pearl _limped on without incident until, when they were a mere day or two away from the stones that marked the way into World's End, the lookout noticed sails on the horizon. Barbossa leaned against the railing and stared into his spyglass. "Peacock's come to collect," he muttered to himself, forgetting that he had a pint-sized audience. This happened often, since Willie was short enough to be out of his direct line of sight. "This is goin to be _brutal_."

* * *

That night, as they were getting ready for bed, Barbossa said, "You know, Jack, I thank ye for backin me on this even though I've not told ye exactly what I'm plannin." 

Jack made a face. "You know I'm still not happy about that, right? But I suppose considering all the ideas of mine _you've _backed that didn't make much sense... I can let this one go. So long as you're _sure _you know what you're doing."

"I certainly do. We're almost there." He threw Jack a bottle and held up his flask for a toast.

"Almost to World's End again, eh?" Jack grinned but it was a little shadowed. "Here's to cheating death, mate." He didn't seem sure they were managing it this time.

"Aye." Barbossa knew his voice wasn't coming out right, but he'd been so weak lately that Jack probably wouldn't notice the difference. "To cheatin death." They both drank, and then he lay down slowly and for what might be the last time said, "Night, Jack."

"Gnight mate."

Jack closed his eyes without the slightest suspicion that anything was amiss.

Two hours later, Barbossa was in a lifeboat. He'd brought oars, though he wasn't sure he was strong enough to actually use them, and a white flag to set on fire so that Norrington's ship would see him more easily in the night. He felt worse than ever.

* * *

The night was coming to an end when the soldiers threw him a rope and he climbed, swearing and blaspheming creatively the whole way. Norrington was waiting for him when he reached the top. "Evening, Captain Barbossa." 

"Evenin. So… those stones out there… y'can't see 'em yet maybe, but you soon will... that be our destination."

Norrington took a deep breath. "So we're in sight of it. As we agreed."

"Aye. As we agreed." Barbossa went to the railing and looked over to where the first rays of light had begun to show over the horizon. "You know, I've done a good many bizarre things in my day… sometimes good things, some perhaps… not so good." The crowd was backing away a little as Norrington came to stand beside him. "But this... I can hardly believe I'm goin through with it."

"Everyone… does what he has to," Norrington choked out. _Except me. Except me, who never ever fulfills his responsibilities to the people who depend on him. _

"Aye… I suppose so." They watched orange streaks shoot across the grey sky for a bit and finally the sun itself peeked out. Barbossa stared at it without blinking until his eyes started to water. There. Now he could never accuse himself of crying, no matter how bad he started to drip. He looked over at Norrington. "I must admit I didn't think it would be this hard."

"You said it wasn't much to lose," Norrington reminded him, praying that the captain hadn't started to have second thoughts. Catching and hanging growling pirates was one thing, but could he actually stand to kill a man who had offered himself up peacefully in return for the safety of other people? People who were by and large, as Norrington had admitted more than once, good people?

"I was wrong. Seems it hurts to lose it anyhow." Barbossa shrugged and laughed a little. "Don't matter now, though, does it? It looks like we've missed a dawn hanging, Commodore. How would noon suit ye?"

Norrington swallowed hard. "It… it will suit me fine, Captain," he said softly. "The least I can do is let you choose the hour of your own death, don't you think?"

"_My _death?" Barbossa snorted, sounding a little surprised. "Hardly! We're not hangin me – we're hangin Jack. He's down in me lifeboat, tied up and knocked out with enough sleepin drugs to keep him quiet through most of the morning." He touched his stomach and explained, "I couldn't carry him up myself for obvious reasons, so I tethered the boat to your ship and you'll have to have some of your own men climb down and fetch him." He laughed a little and shook his head. "You didn't actually think I was going to let you hang me... did you?"

* * *

TBC. 

Guys, you didn't _really _think Barbossa would offer to trade his own life for other people's. Puh-leez!! Much as I like Barbossa, remember that he is the man who decides to slit Will's throat in cold blood even though he knows perfectly well he only needs a few drops of blood for the sacrifice to work. The man who answers a plea for mercy with "_You _can be the gentleman, and shoot the lady, and starrrve to death yourself." When push comes to shove it turns out he may not be such an evil bastard after all, but he plans rottenness to a nicety and I just don't see deliberate and calculated self-sacrifice as a part of his character. Even my slightly-fuzzier-than-canon Barbossa wouldn't go for it - he'd rather risk letting Jack boil alive than jeopardize his own escape plan.

Now, I trust you have _some _reaction to this chapter, aye? So please, pretty please, review for me!!

(I would threaten Jack's safety, but I'm not sure things look good for Jack whether you review or not.)


	23. Then: the captains take a stand

**Post-accord, year six: The captains take a stand**

* * *

Barbossa burst into the cabin and shook Jack awake. "Up - there's trouble."

"Hm- wh- what is it?"

"Crew's talkin and tonight I don't like the sound of it. We need to get out there and set this to rights before it blows up. We'll have a mutiny on our hands, Jack."

"Mutiny?" Jack struggled into a sitting position and squinted into the darkness. "Really?"

"I've been warnin ye it would come to this." This was true. Three weeks ago Barbossa had learned that the crew was calling them Mama and Papa behind their backs. Judging it a lack of respect too big to let go unchecked, he had responded by instituting a reign of terror wherein the crew were worked like dogs and brutalized for the least mistake or infraction. Hate him though they might, the men had been too cowed to speak up. After they'd shown a week of perfect (though sullen) obedience, Jack had finally convinced him to relax some of the harsher rules he had thought up.

And the thanks he got for being magnanimous was, predictably, a rebellion.

"Well. Why don't _you _go out and handle it, then, considering mutiny is _your_ area of expertise and not mine." Jack's voice was loaded with enough bitterness that Barbossa flinched.

"Jack, please - this be no time to start discussin history!" he snarled after a moment. They never talked about the disastrous Isla de Muerta trip, so Barbossa never knew just how big a sore spot it was and would much prefer to keep it that way. "Come, I need you for this. We have to face them together and take it all in hand or... or y'know full well what happens otherwise..."

"Don't I just." Jack lay back down, rolled to face the wall, and pretended to snore.

"I can't do it alone – they know the story and the minute I open my mouth they'll turn on me."

Jack took a break from snoring long enough to say, "So? Maybe it'll do you good to see what it feels like," and then started up again.

"They'll be stonin me as hypocrite if you're not there coverin my back!" As Jack ignored him he just got more agitated. "Are ye _trying _to get me killed?!"

The snoring stopped. "Maybe." Jack snuggled deeper into the bed and put a pillow over his head.

Barbossa swore a blue streak and left the cabin without him.

* * *

By the time he was out on deck, the rebels were armed and dangerous and there were far too many of them to shoot. He took a breath and prepared to try and win them over...

As he had feared, not twenty seconds into his speech someone interrupted him to shout, "You're a fine one to talk - you only _got _this ship through mutiny in the first place - I was there!"

"Aye - and do ye recall how it worked out for us? A lifetime of living hell on earth!" He looked over the group and registered that most of them had not been there for it. "Some of you will remember those times, and there be no need to say more to ye. As for the others... you'll have to just take our word for it: we soon realized it was a mistake and we'd have given anything to undo it. Looking out for ourselves…taking what we wanted… it seemed like a good idea _then_, and aye in the usual coursa things three cheers for that sort of thing, but the code ought to have been respected and-"

"Hang the code!" Somebody shouted.

"Aye! Hang the code and hang the captains!"

Barbossa strode forward without drawing a weapon. He cleared a path through the forest of sword tips and pistol muzzles with his bare hands, projecting a cold unconcern that unbalanced everyone enough not to shoot just quite yet. He took the pirate who had suggested hanging by the collar and dragged him close. "Your ears be seemin a little clogged; p'rhaps a bullet would clear 'em out," he growled, still ignoring the _click_s of the guns around him. "I said, _it was a mistake,_" he repeated. "There's ways to get what you want, and mutiny's not one of them!"

He let go and spun to face the group at large. "Jack was practically a child, aye, but the ship was _his _seein as he'd made a deal that none of us dared to. He was captain by rights and I wasn't; he could've lifted the curse quick and I couldn't. In other words, gents, _the captain is the captain for a reason_! Last time you tried to buck the order I was right there beside ye - and look what I got for me troubles: ten years of misery... and then this!" He jerked his shirt down to show off his bullet scar and stared hard into many different pairs of eyes. "Exactly what I deserved. Stand down now, or – take it from one who knows – you'll be spending what years you've got left sufferin and shamed and sorrier than you'd believe."

The crowd was still undecided - it had gotten quiet but not begun to disperse or put down its weapons. Barbossa knew that drawing his sword would provoke an instinctive reaction of about fifteen bullets, so instead he stepped up to one of the pirates and wrested _his _sword from his hands, snarling, "Give that here, y'poxy whoreson."

He turned his back on the mob and drove the sword into the deck with both hands, then faced them again, leaving the hilt quivering in the air behind him.

"So now that you know what's what, let's decide. All ye who stand here with me, who stand for keepin this ship afloat and winnin yourselves a nice bit o'swag and livin under the command of them who've brought you out of danger before... you gentlemen are the smart ones. Anybody else, anyone who wants to take their chances with breakin our law and sailin in miserable chaos under some no-name mutineer captain... y'boys have me sympathy for bein so stupid, and ye may step over that line now so's the rest of us can see who to throw overboard." Barbossa gestured grandly towards the sword behind him and rested a hand on his pistol.

One or two pirates started to step forward, but when they saw that most of the group was not moving they changed their minds and stayed put.

Barbossa nodded as if he had foreseen this all along, but inside he was positively drowned in adrenaline and barely able to think straight. He, a mutineer captain, had talked down a mutiny! Amazing.

But he saw from their faces that this would not be the end of it. Some of them looked abashed or afraid, aye, but there were others resentful, disgusted, all ready to turn on their cowardly companions the minute the captain showed his back and convince them to make another go at it.

That couldn't be allowed to happen, so although he ordinarily would have consulted with Jack before taking steps of this magnitude, Barbossa decided a little purge was in order. "You!" he barked, singling out a pirate who was too newly-recruited to have any friends. People drew back from him as if his doom were somehow contagious. Barbossa pointed again to the sword. "We've had naught but trouble and discontent since you came aboard. We're through with ye, you Jonah. He was one of the ones instigatin this, was he not?" he asked to the crowd at large.

Some of the more timid pirates nodded and affirmed it aloud, desperate to get back in their captain's good graces. "As I thought," Barbossa sneered. "Cross the line." He drew his sword and nobody shot him. "Do it... or you'll wish you had."

The pirate crossed over the imaginary line to stand facing his former allies. "Cowards! Girls! Pigs!" he spat at them. "Devil take you all!"

"He calls ye cowards, girls, pigs," Barbossa repeated dispassionately, _tsk_ing his crew. "You're well rid of him." He looked over the crowd. "And _you. _Yes you, you traitor - you're the one what got these poor fools started on mockin their captains, and now look where it's led 'em. Step over the line and join your fellow idiot." He took one more look and pointed his sword. "And finally you three. _Don't _be tellin me that you're innocent," he said over their protest, "Because I doubt any man here will second that lie. Hmm?"

Glad not to have been singled out, every other pirate kept mum. Barbossa sheathed his sword and walked calmly over to one of the lifeboats and kicked it. "You five wanted so badly to captain your own ship, eh? Well, I congratulate ye, gentlemen: you'll be gettin your wish." He gave his widest, coldest smile, and purred: "All aboard."

Slaughtering that many victims by hand was too bloody for the already-uneasy crew to take in silence, but Barbossa thought he could get away with setting them adrift.

"Y-you're going to just cut them loose, sir?" one of the others asked gingerly. "I don't mean to question you, sir, but it's... it's a horrible way to die..."

"They turned on their captain and deserve no better," Barbossa snapped without thinking, offended at the mere _notion _of offering mercy to the people who had just been about to kill him.

He didn't realize how poorly he had chosen his words until the pirate answered, a little more firmly, "Sir, beg pardon but you've just said _you _turned on your captain as well, and-"

A voice from off to the side interrupted clearly and decisively: "And his captain shot him dead for it." Jack.

All heads turned in Jack's direction. Jack uncrossed his arms and came forward, walking for a change rather than flouncing. He had a pistol in his hand. "But it's been a decade and a half now, and I've forgiven him. Perhaps in fifteen more years we'll forgive these fine young men too." He came all the way up to Barbossa's shoulder, quite literally covering his back, and then ordered, "Now do as he says: lower the boat. And for future reference, gentlemen, we are allies now and we don't ever want to hear another word about that mutiny."

Later on Barbossa would wonder exactly how long Jack had been listening, and whether he had intended to help out all along or not, but at the moment he was too relieved to care. And as for that (_guil_-) funny feeling in his stomach, (even though it had only really started up when Jack came forward), he would just attribute that to fear and then everything was fine.

* * *

The moment they were alone in the cabin that night, Jack turned on him and whacked him in the back of the head and hissed, "I told you not to maroon people! It rubs me the wrong way, remember? No more marooning for any reason! None, all right? Don't to it!"

"If ye didn't like it ye should have-"

"I don't have a death wish, mate. It wouldn't have been quite the pinnacle of wisdom an' prudence to start questioning your orders just after that little speech, would it."

Barbossa shrugged. "Mmm, suppose not." Jack was looking at him as if waiting for something, so he finally snapped, "What?"

"Nothing," Jack laughed, shaking his head. "It's just that you're, you know, _welcome_ to thank me for tonight, if the mood ever strikes you."

"Hah!" he snorted, but Jack wasn't through.

"Were you telling the truth out there?"

"Jack, I was puttin down a mutiny. I'd have told them ye were Cleopatra in disguise if I thought it would help any."

_Once again, ignoring my question entirely. _Jack decided to set a good example. "Well, I was," he said primly, but Barbossa only smiled and shrugged.

"Mmm. Must have been a fascinatin change for ye."

For lack of a better response Jack tried "_Garrrr_." It was his first time and found it surprisingly satisfying.

* * *

TBC.

Poor Jack. If he only knew what he'd get in return for his loyalty… And for that matter, poor Barbie, too – I don't think he's going to be exactly thrilled with himself for selling Jack out.

So I'm glad I surprised everyone last chapter. To those who worry about Barbossa's future… all I can say is, it can't end _too _badly; it's a Disney movie. (For which reason I'll do my best to refrain from including any further B/E (possible) raunchiness.)

Next update will likely be Tuesday. Leave me love!


	24. Now: Jack cuts his hanging short

A/N: Yes, this is giantly long. Sorry.

* * *

"Amazing..." 

"Stop saying that!" Gilette shoved the doctor away from him and pulled his shirt back down. "It's not amazing at all - it's awful! How can you-"

"All right, all right, calm down, don't take it personally." Dr. Bailey was desperate for another look. "I'll do everything I can to help you, but you can't keep pulling away like that. Please sit still, two more minutes, and then I'll have something more definite to say. It looks already like I was right about the salt water."

Gilette hiked his shirt up again and looked away. "I know this fascinates you intellectually, but try to remember, would you, that I'm a human being too!"

"No, you're not," Bailey murmured. He rapped on the coral plate that had grown up over Gilette's rib cage. "You're a medical marvel and I'd give anything to be able to study the process that lets-"

"I could give a damn about the process!" Gilette very nearly jerked away again. "All I want is an idea of how to help cure myself _when _and _if _I am ever allowed off this cursed ship!"

The clack of a peg leg against the floor was the only warning they got before Davy Jones knocked the door open and snorted at them from the doorway. "Cursed ship, is it?" he repeated. "It didn't seem half so bad when you were begging me to spare you a death in fever and agony, now, did it?"

Habit had Gilette leaping to his feet to salute. "Captain, I am _not _suggesting that I would break my vows to you, sir," he began firmly. "However, it's well known that you amuse yourself by betting and bargaining for people's lives. It's therefore possible that someday I may find myself released." He nodded and said it once more, as if to reassure himself: "It's possible."

Davy leaned in until he could feel the heat radiating from Gilette's skin (_it's only a matter of time til he cools like the rest of us, _he reminded himself to soothe his jealousy) and asked, "What are you so eager to get back to, then?" No answer. "A girl, perhaps? A family?"

"No sir."

"No family - why's that?" Davy demanded at once.

"Because... because I don't know, because the Navy's my family, I suppose. I've never had time or need or desire to go wifehunting."

"I see." Game over - Davy had figured out his new crewmemeber and was bored already. The man had the sense not to fall for a girl perhaps, but he was in love nonetheless. Obsessed with someone else's career... odd, but not unheard of. He'd ridden Norrington's coattails to the top, and then to rock bottom, and he'd probably follow the poor fool to Hell itself given half a chance. It wasn't all that unlike being in love, was it.

Davy felt for him (or woud have if he'd still been up for that sort of thing), but it wasn't enough to stop him from factoring Gilette into the equation as an easy pawn who could be made to do anything if it looked like Norrington was in danger. And considering Davy had never quite forgiven Norrington for his role in the heart-theft fiasco of nine years ago...

Norrington might well find himself in a bit of danger soon. It was a useful thing to know.

"Now leave him be," Davy ordered Dr. Bailey suddenly. "Your real patient awaits."

Initially it had been a joy to care for the Kraken. Bailey had never seen such a magnificent creature at all, let alone gotten near enough to _touch _one, let alone been given a hands-on course of study in its biology. His mind had been thoroughly boggled as he examined and touched the beast, as he sewed severed arms back together with rope and a "needle" made out of a cutlass and especially as he watched them _grow back together before his very eyes_. Amazing.

But now the beast was doing much better. All he had to do each day was remove rope stitches that were no longer necessary, lance gallons and gallons of the most foul-smelling pus he had ever encountered, and scrub off whatever sorts of barnacles or algae grew on the poor monster overnight. It had been near a week of this and the doctor was nearly ready to contemplate suicide. "Come on," Davy pressed him, prying him from Gilette. "Go faster - we have to leave this place soon."

"No. It's still not safe for her to travel," Bailey insisted. "I told you, she risks compromising the healing process and she could become infected. If you want her to be strong, you'll have to let her stay sedantary for at least another two weeks."

It was the first time Bailey had given a concrete time frame, and Davy went into a rage.

"Two weeks? Two more _weeks_?" he shouted, spitting fishy water all over the place. "I won't wait here two more godrotting _weeks_!"

"If you sail you risk-"

Davy interrupted: "I _will not _sit around like a-"

"Then go! But you cannot take the creature with you!"

"_I WILL GO WHEN I WANT TO GO!_" Davy's beard was so upset that one of its pieces poked him in the eye. He took a deep breath and wiped his face. "We're going for the _Pearl _at once but all _right, _we won't take the Kraken. I suggest you get yourself to the dry room if you don't want to die." He jerked his head in Gilette's direction and added irritably: "And I suggest you bring your _friend _with you - you've been monkeying around so much that I doubt he can even breathe underwater yet. Pitiful creature."

He stomped off and prepared to take the ship down - _way _down. Down to where he was _really _in his element, down past the light, to where there was only sea and sea and sea and sea. _Sailing to World's End on the surface, navigating with charts, weeks upon weeks, _he snickered to himself. A _race _to World's End? If those silly pirates only knew!

When he took them deep enough, the _Dutchman _could get there in a matter of hours.

Hard on the ship? Of course - the poor thing would probably gobble up a quarter of the crew and would creak for days anyway. Exhausting for _him_? Yes and beyond yes. If he weren't immortal the headache would probably kill him. But the look on the faces of those wretched _pirates _when he surfaced right up next to them... Oh, it would all be worth it. He laughed, but forgot to open his mouth and so it came out his blowhole instead and sounded like somebody stepping in a mud puddle. Even after all these years the sound disgusted him.

* * *

Norrington blinked. "Jack?" 

"Aye. You didn't specify _which _captain of the _Black Pearl _you meant to hang, so-"

"I assumed you meant y-"

"Seems you assumed wrong. Tell your men to bring him up here." As the soldiers obeyed he told Norrington, "I'd think you would be glad. Given ye spend your whole life tryin to wipe out piracy, think how bad it would sting if it turned out pirates be people to admire. This way ye can sleep at night – you're right about us after all." He didn't watch as Jack was dumped up on the deck or as Norrington bent over him to make sure there was no trickery afoot.

"I can't believe this," Norrington said finally. His stomach had dropped half a foot with disappointment. "You two are practically married - you'd cut off your head before you handed Jack over."

"First off, I have no choice. We both know the _Pearl _is a mess and won't be in no shape even to sail home, if we had to fight you first. And second," he added coldly, "it's _Elizabeth _I'm intendin to marry now. Jack's half of the cabin now belongs to her."

"I see," Norrington answered, equally coldly. The devotion of these two pirates for each other was legendary... and now here was one going to sell out the other... over lust for a _girl _and a little fear. This was disgusting. "So you'll send Jack to his death."

"Aye. But I have conditions."

"We didn't discuss conditions." Norrington could hardly believe he was being so heartless, but it was too late, he'd said it now and that was that.

It didn't seem to ruffle Barbossa. "No, but Elizabeth tells me you've a friend been taken onto Davy Jones's ship," he answered smoothly. "I could promise to spare him if and when we take the _Dutchman_. Otherwise, I'm afraid he'll be goin the way of all the rest of the prisoners I take." He patted his sword belt. "And he'll be goin unusually slowly."

"Then let's hear these _conditions_ of yours." A good last meal? A Mass for Jack's soul? As if _any _condition could possibly mitigate the crime of betraying a best friend!

Barbossa nodded. "First: you're to kill him as soon as possible. You are _not _to allow him to escape, be pardoned, rot in prison, nothing like that. _Jack must die_. He must actually stop breathin today, at noon, is that clear?" He answered Norrington's frown of confusion by pulling aside his collar. "That's what he did to me the _last _time I turned on him," he explained. "Took him ten years but the bastard hunted me down. No more o'that, if you please. You'll hang him here at sea and _then _you may take him home to show all your filthy friends."

"Very well," said Norrington stiffly. _Vile creature. _How could he ever have expected better of a _pirate_? "Next condition?"

Barbossa met the Commodore's eyes and said quietly, "Jack and I been good friends and I don't mean this to be any more unpleasant for him than it has to. _He is not to be tortured._" Norrington made to protest this slur on his men's characters, but Barbossa silenced him with a glare. "I know how you ladies feel about pirates when there's a group of ye and only one of us, behind bars to boot," he sneered. "I won't stick around for the hangin but if I ever hear Jack went to it with a broken arm or leg or so much as a black eye, I'll nail your head to my bow myself. While you're still attached to it."

"The theatrics are not necessary. Sparrow won't be tortured."

"You're not to break his spirit either, if you can help it. As I said, he's a friend."

"I think when he learns about your treachery his spirit will be effectively broken already." Norrington was so upset he still couldn't rein in his tongue. "I doubt I could top this if I tried."

It was then that Jack spoke up. "Nah - I'm sure if you put your mind to it you could work something out."

* * *

Barbossa whirled on him, shocked and horrified to see him awake. "Jack?" 

"Perhaps you were expecting someone else?"

"This is- I… I'm sorry."

"Well then- Hey! Where are you going? You've having them kill me, and you're not even going to stay and watch?"

"I can't. Jack, stop it," he said heavily. "This be business, nothin personal - you know I got no choice, and I'll admit to ye that I don't like it. Hate it, in fact."

"Oh, good - because that's really going to help me when they put the _noose _around my neck!" Jack struggled against his ropes, not really expecting to get anywhere. "I don't get it, mate," he said finally. "I _trusted _you..."

"You _shot _me, remember?" Barbossa corrected. "Maybe I'm just evenin the score."

"But- but that was years ago! I thought you'd forgiven me that. I forgave you the mutiny..."

"Bad call on that one, then."

"... and you go and do it _again_?"

Barbossa managed to look at him briefly. "Y'can't have mutiny between equals. This be betrayal pure and simple, Jack, and I'm not rejoicin in it but it was save you or save the rest of us. Sincere apologies. It's been fine and I do wish luck to ye."

He went off without looking back – even when Jack shouted after him: "Fine! But fair warning, mate: if I get out here somehow, you had best watch your back!"

* * *

Jack always knew how to get under a man's skin, so the minute he was brought down into the brig he began to work his magic on the guards. First came listening. He sat through twenty minutes of their gossiping and complaining, until he felt he had their measure. He waited for a break in the conversation and then spoke up calmly from the floor: "We don't do that on my ship." 

One of the soldiers knew better than to fraternize with Jack Sparrow, but the younger one frowned and asked, "Do what?"

Jack stood and gestured over his shoulder, towards his back. "Especially for something like failing to cop a bloody salute."

The older one dismissed it with a shake of his head. "Come off it, a flogging's standard practice in the navy, Sparrow, even you know that. When a superior-"

"It was _dark,_" his friend complained. "I thought it was one of me friends - how was I supposed to-"

"The way it works wiv us," Jack cut in, "Is that if the captain don't make himself known by his own bearing, then, you know, y'might as well not get up out of your seat." He lowered his voice and suddenly dropped all the playfulness from his manner. "When it's time for you to salute me or Barbossa, _you'll know_." He could already see the admiration in the younger one's face.

"All well and good," snapped the skeptic, "I'm sure it's lots of fun, but it's a very shoddy way to keep order."

"Actually, it's quite effective," Jack breezed. "We know the difference between an honest mistake..." He nodded to the young man, "... and a person who's going to _keep _making mistakes, who's going to _always _be drunk or fighting, _always _a problem. Those, we kick off the ship, leave 'em in some port and that's the end of the treasure for _them_."

"One man, one share," breathed Jack's target.

"Exactly. Life on a pirate ship does have its benefits, see? For instance..." Jack stared hard into his eyes. "We never have to hang people in cold blood once we've made friends with them. I myself have never taken a life that didn't need be taken."

The soldier looked perfectly miserable and fumbled around with a lot of _uhm_s that didn't quite add up to a sentence. Jack talked to him for another ten minutes, and was not at all surprised when his young convert finally mumbled some excuse about needing to use the privy and ran off. _Without doubt he's gone to beg a few words with dear Commodore Norrington, _Jack thought with satisfaction. _Hope he remembers to salute this time._

Unfortunately Norrington was not interested in listening to a guard plead on Jack's behalf. Instead he sent him away to do some unnecessary menial work, and then locked himself into Jack's cell. "Stop it, Sparrow. You're on a ship full of people who want to see you hang. There's nowhere to go and nothing to do now but try and face death with your pride intact."

"Listen. Norrington-" Jack began.

"Not another word," Norrington ordered. "I don't want to hear it, and neither do any of my men. This has to stop. If I hadn't promised Barbossa not to mutilate you, I'd cut out your tongue right here. I suppose in the meantime a gag will have to do..."

Jack waited til the gag was within inches of his face, then snatched Norrington by the wrist. "Tell me what happened," he urged softly.

The physical proximity made Norrington uncomfortable and the question caught him by surprise and, as Jack had hoped, his cold professionalism fell apart. "What do you _think_ happened?" he snarled. "I failed my dearest friend and now I'm helping yours to fail you and I do _not _wish to talk about it and let _go _of me!" He stuffed up Jack's mouth and spun him around to tie behind his head. "I know perfectly well I'm going to Hell for this and that's all there is to say. I'm sorry, Jack," he snapped at last. He'd gotten his temper mostly back under control, but still sounded a lot more angry than sorry. He cuffed Jack's hands behind him and left the cell.

Jack sat on the floor and concentrated on breathing. In through the nose, out through the... nose. _Best not catch cold or start crying, _he thought dryly. _Although, if you did suffocate, at least it would always be said that Captain Jack Sparrow beat the noose at the last..._

He considered performing a spectacular suicide in the cell for just that purpose, then decided that even the slightest hope of nick-of-time escape was worth holding out for. He maneuvered himself into a crouch and painstakingly performed the contortions necessary to get his hands in front of him. He remembered how once upon a time it was merely a matter of stepping through with one foot and then the other, but now it took fifteen minutes and made his shoulders and knees and hips ache so badly he thought he might almost appreciate the approaching oblivion. _You're getting old, love,_ he warned himself. _Best not count on some flashy leaping escape this time. Better use what's upstairs if you can. _He knew he'd been making some headway with the martyr act, so when nobody was looking he banged his head against the wall to open up a big bleeding scrape, then sketched a cross on the wall in blood and knelt in front of it. He mentally reviewed the scene: man on his knees, hands folded, in chains, a tasteful little blood trickle on his cheek. If he wanted to inspire religious awe, it would probably be more dignified if he got rid of the gag... on the other hand, if he was looking for pity...

He decided to keep it, and was rewarded when his new young friend came downstairs and almost had a coronary when he saw what poor Captain Sparrow was being put through.

Once the kid had rattled the bars loud enough to break through even the most pious of religious trances, Jack looked over at him and nodded a greeting. He stood up, exaggerating the wince as he shook his legs out. "Quick," his visitor whispered, "Come here and turn around. I'll take that off, at least."

Music to his ears. Instead of turning to let the soldier go at the knot, though, Jack just came up to the bars and bowed his head. This way his hands, still in front of him, would be better able to snatch the keys or a gun or whatever else the fool might be carrying.

The keys. On a ring. On a belt. While his gag was being untied Jack fumbled quickly for the soldier's knife, found it. He was just sawing through the belt to get at the keys, when someone grabbed the guard by the shoulders and pulled him backwards. "_Nmmmph!" _Jack wailed in frustration.

It was Norrington. "What in Heaven's name do you think you are doing?" He was so keyed up his voice was cracking. "Get away from those bars! What's gotten into you? Are you looking to hang beside him?"

Jack used those few seconds to stick the knife into his sleeve and finish ungagging himself. "Aw, leave him alone, Norrington, mate," he said wearily. "He was just making me comfortable. What do you care if I spend my last hours quiet or not?"

Norrington let go of his underling and ordered him upstairs. "I don't care what you do with them, Sparrow, so long as they are in fact your _last _hours."

Jack went and sat down at the far side of the cell, knees bent and spread, hands resting comfortably between them. "I still don't quite understand." He cocked his head. "Sit."

Norrington dismissed the guards he had brought with him, then heaved a sigh and slid down the wall. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, hugging himself and at times bowing his head so that all you could see was the top of his wig. _He _looked like the man under sentence of death, while Jack sat looking relaxed, at ease, and perfectly confident. "For all the times I have _not _gutted you," Jack began softly, "I think I deserve an explanation. An honest one - not a load of bollocks about law or duty. You and I are past that, mate."

"I- I mean all right I, look, y-you have to understand... ugh." Norrington was so busy fumbling for words in his guilt that he came nowhere near to noticing the tip of a knife blade poke out of Jack's sleeve, or the tiny fluttering of Jack's fingers as he worked it towards the keyhole in his cuffs. "I warned you it could someday come to this. Jack... I understand you don't really deserve to die, but _neither do I_. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do lawfully and I simply will not risk my own life for you."

"Come, don't pretend you got trapped," Jack growled. "_You_ made this deal with Barbossa."

"I would have thought twice if I'd known what he meant. I thought he meant to give _himself_ up..." Norrington shook his head. "Although in retrospect, I can't imagine what possessed me to think him capable of that."

"Good question." Jack laughed a little, to cover the grinding squeak of the knife point in his shackles. Still no dice, but he thought if he had just a few more minutes to pick at it, with no soldiers interfering... _Keep him talking._ "But what I want to know is, how the bloody hell are you going to live with yourself after this?" _Bugger this rusty lock..._

"I don't know. By God I don't know, but..." His breath was long and shuddery and Jack thought he was about to cry. "It's... Be fair, Jack - aside from the critical fact that _this is my duty, _remember I have a family now. They need me. Gilette depended on me and I failed him and I won't fail anyone else. I owe you nothing. And remember the last time I cut you slack simply because I felt like it? It was only a day's head start - one day - but it ruined my life."

"Yes but this is going to kill you," Jack whispered. He himself wasn't sure if it was cover noise, a ploy to make Norrington feel guilty, or an honest warning.

"It's no more than I deserve." Norrington got to his feet slowly and put on his hat. "Rest assured, Sparrow," he said bitterly. "You will never be forgotten. You're going to haunt me til the day I die. Now... it's about time. Please let's do this with a little dignity, shall we?" He went to the foot of the stairs and called up for guards. Only when he had an armed escort of six did he finally open the cell.

* * *

Up on deck everybody was assembled in solemn ranks ready to bear witness to the hanging. Jack noticed Governor Swann and lunged for him. "What exactly are you going to tell little Willie when he asks where Uncle Jack's gone off to then, eh? Come on, m-" 

"I'll tell him that _Uncle Jack _was a criminal," Swann answered crisply, "Albeit a very personable one, but a criminal nonetheless, and he met his end the way criminals tend to do. Now, please - let go of me." He shook Jack off and stepped back._All right, scratch that - no help there. Now what?_ Absurd as it was under the circumstances, Jack couldn't help wishing he had Barbossa there with him. _Think, Jack,_ he snarled to himself. What would Barbossa say? _We have to buy some time! Tell them-_

At that moment, the rope actually touched his neck, and he panicked. "Nono! No voulu fi-fi, Dio only voulu soupa, yumyum only soupa tres chau-chau-bubble, savvy?"

The soldiers looked confused. "Sparrow?" Norrington asked. "As last words go, that was-"

"I- I mean, what I meant to say is, is I, yes, I want a more spectacular hanging! Can we, er, can we all climb up the mast and, and drop me from the very tippy top?"

Norrington stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"I'm _Captain Jack Sparrow, _mate. When am I _not _serious?" Jack was rapidly warming to the idea. Perhaps he could somehow get hold of some rope and swing down to safety, maybe stick his knife in the sail and ride it all the way down to the bottom - in all his years at sea, he'd never once had a chance to do that - and in any case, even if it failed, at least he would go out in style.

"You're just looking for a chance to push me to _my _death," Norrington snapped.

"I give you my word I'm not going to push you. You or any of these people. Although," he added a moment later, "If you'll _take _my word, then that means you consider me a man of honor, and in that case one has to wonder what you think you're doing hanging me in the first place..."

"Fine!" Norrington gestured for one of his men to coil up the noose and go aloft. "Never let it be said that I refused a man a last request that may well have been innocuous. We'll hang Jack Sparrow from the 'very tippy top' of my ship." He took off his coat and hat and shoes so as to be better able to climb, and he and three others headed up. When they got to the top, someone put the noose around Jack's neck again and this time he didn't go berserk. He merely took a deep breath and looked around.

"Long way down, eh?"

"Jack..."

Jack grinned at him. "See you in Hell, mate."

Norrington nodded stiffly. "Yes. You will."

Jack jumped.

* * *

Nobody was surprised to see Jack's hands come up to clutch at the rope before he ran out of slack. Norrington fancied he could hear the _pop _of the pirate's shoulders when he caught himself, and he winced. "You did grease the rope, didn't you?" he murmured. 

"Aye, sir," someone said from beside him. "He won't be able to hold on long."

"What is he-" Norrington watched as Jack kicked frantically but purposefully, getting up momentum as if he were trying to swing to someplace. "Where does he think he's-"

"Knife!" a soldier gasped. Norrington saw the flash in the same moment.

"My God, he's trying to cut himself loose." Norrington shook his head in amazement. At that moment the rope parted and Jack began to fall.

Jack could see that he was not flying far enough, that it was deck and not ocean below him, and had just enough time to think _Ah well good try mate _before he hit the ground.

* * *

Norrington climbed down slowly, numbly, hardly able to believe what he had just seen. Jack was lying face down on the deck, in the middle of a large open space which nobody quite dared breach yet. 

There was some blood. From the angle of the neck alone he could see that Jack had to be dead, but when he rolled the body over to make sure, he saw a knife handle protruding from Jack's chest. Suicide? Bad luck? (Good luck?) He couldn't tell.

"Jack?" It was, of course, ridiculous to hope that there was any glimmer of life left, but Norrington thought he would give just about anything for Jack to wink up at him one last time and tell him it was all right.

No such luck. Norrington stayed down on one knee and allowed himself four full breaths in and out before pulling out the knife and standing up. "Whose blade is this?" A hand rose timidly, and Norrington handed the dripping weapon to him without even bothering to wipe it. "He could have killed me with this."

"He could have killed any one of us, any time he wanted," the soldier agreed softly, so choked up that Norrington had to strain to hear. "But he said... he, he told me, Jack Sparrow never takes lives without a reason. I can't believe we-" He saluted first, so the Commodore wouldn't mistake it for another sign of disrespect, and then turned away in case he started crying.

Norrington was relieved to discover that he didn't (yet) have to follow suit.

* * *

TBC. 

Sooo... sorry for the bummer.

Leave me some love anyway! Next chapter we get some DrunkAndDissolute!Norrington.


	25. Now: Norrington drowns his sorrows

That night, nothing Charlotte said could make it any better. "I'm proud of you," she tried. But Norrington suspected that this was a lie. "You had the courage to do your duty no matter how hard..."

"_No matter how hard?_" he repeated sloppily. "You don't _know _how hard! Now grvme here give it here that rum!"

She sighed and handed over the bottle. "Last bottle. This is enough for tonight."

"No such thing." He looked up at her blearily and tried to smile. "I'm drowning my sorrows, rrmember? Drownng m'bloody- about _Jack_. How did I-"

"It looks to me like your sorrows can breathe underwater, James. Give it up." She sat down on the floor beside him and held him close. "It's all right if it hurts - that just shows you've got a good heart."

"Well I don't. Want. One!" He burped and then nodded so emphatically that his wig slid off. "Awana be like a pirate. No conscience." Charlotte ducked beneath his wild gesture. "No heart." She ducked again. "Youcn betray whoever you want and kill evrrybody and nnnubody cares!" He lifted the rum bottle as though to smash it and then changed his mind - it was, after all, the last one he was getting tonight. "We _both _killed Jack and he's probablby out mmm throwingm party - and lookame!" He wiped his sleeve across his face, staining it with an unappealing mixture of snot and rum and tears.

"Now _that's _not true," Charlotte said with conviction. "Barbossa is _not _out throwing a party and I wouldn't want to be in his shoes tonight any more than I'd want to be in yours. I'll bet that right this minute the _Pearl _is a war zone - Elizabeth is going to have _plenty _to say."

"Mmn I'll bet." He snorted.

It was better to see him rejoicing in somebody else's misery than wallowing in his own. Thrilled to have finally found a way of cheering him up, Charlotte continued: "I _know_ that pirate's in love with her, and now she's going to despise him. So-"

But Norrington was turning bitter again. "Oh yessh - she's good at that, despising always dsspising people who love her, isn't she."

It took her a moment to put it together. "Oh! No, James, come on, that was so long ago. Nobody despises you. Look-"

"She yelled at me anthen she slapped me." He laughed suddenly in a way that was not at all pleasant. "So whudddya think she'll do thish time?" He tried to play out the scene in his rum-soaked brain, but it turned out not to be nearly as funny as he was hoping: Elizabeth would shout and rail. Barbossa would take exception and would... what? Shout back? Draw a sword? A gun?

Suddenly Norrington was concerned. After all, the pirate had already demonstrated a willingness to harm and in fact permanently mutilate Elizabeth; Norrington had watched him brand her like an animal when she was barely eighteen years old. And that was when she hadn't even done anything wrong.

If she lost her temper with him - and she probably _would... _Norrington lurched to his feet. "We have to go."

"Go?" Charlotte rose too. "Go where - we're on a ship!"

"Elizhabeth - she could bbe... I have to find the Govrnnor," he decided a moment later. "He'll sort thshhole thing out, I'm far ttoo drunk."

"James, please... darling, you can't-" but Charlotte eventually just shut up and helped him dress. After all, if unnecessary worry for Elizabeth would help take his mind off his own recent brush with murder, then she would let him worry unnecessarily. And she was _sure _it was unnecessary. _After all, _she thought, _even if Elizabeth doesn't have that pirate completely wrapped round her finger - and she DOES - he can hardly walk. She is in no danger whatsoever. Probably._

* * *

The note Barbossa had left on his pillow said: _Elizabeth - Me and Jack are playen a game. Loser gets hanged by the peacock in return for the _Pearl_'s safe passege. Come dawn, turn the ship around and look for a boat and fetch up the one of us whos still alive. I'm crossin my fingers it be me._

He had started to sign his given name and then changed his mind, so the signature now was just a blotch of ink. Still, it wasn't exactly likely Elizabeth would be confused over who had written the thing, and so he waited in the lifeboat with perfect confidence until she came for him.

He could tell as soon as he hit the deck that she'd told everyone. "A moment of silence for Captain Sparrow," he growled, leaning on Willie, who had appeared at his side for just that purpose. "And then the lot of ya get back to work."

Elizabeth put her arms around his neck as soon as the men had dispersed. "Captain, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I know what he meant to you. You were so brave, the both of you... you saved the ship from a bloodbath and I-"

"Let go," he snarled. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Look, we'll find him at World's End, Captain, we will. I promise. Whatever it takes, you know I'll stop at noth-"

"I don't want to see him, and I doubt he'll much want to see me either."

"What? Why?" She tried again to be comforting. "Look, I know you must feel responsible - I did when Will died, even though there was nothing I could have done - but Jack knew what he was getting into. It could just as easily have been you who lost, he knows that, and he won't hold it against you any more than you would have against him." She paused, knowing he wouldn't really want to share but still curious to know what contest they would they stake their lives on. "What game did you play?"

Several expressions flitted across his face and then he turned away. "It's called The Trust Game," he spat at last. "Whoever's stupid enough to trust the other, loses." Her eyes were wide but she couldn't find words, and eventually he looked over his shoulder at her. "Go on - you can start hatin me now. I have a couple hours' head start on ye, so you've got some catchin up to do."

He stalked off to the cabin as forcefully as he could, and she followed. "_What? _Captain? Captain, what are you saying? You're saying you, you handed Jack over _without his permission_? I don't believe-"

"Aye. Drugged him up and dumped him over while he was asleep."

"N-no, I refuse- I mean... you _didn't. _Did you?" He tried to shut the door on her, but she shouldered her way into the cabin anyhow. "Captain, listen to me. Listen..."

But instead of listening, he lunged at her and got her by the shoulders. "Well? I had to get the bloody Navy off our backs! What should I have done, then? What would you? Hmm?" He was shaking her the way he had in the cave all those years ago, and she got ready to flinch in case he hit her. "Well? No ideas? I _knew _it be- but-... Come - y'ave to help me, you useless trollop!"

He shoved her backwards and she stumbled and hissed "Trollop?" while trying to catch her balance, but Barbossa didn't hear her because he was busy throwing a bottle against the wall. She flinched at the sound of the glass shattering, and tripped into a chair, knocking it over. "_NOW YOU CALM DOWN!_" she shouted. Once nothing else was falling or breaking, it was suddenly very quiet so she repeated softly: "Calm down or you're going to hurt yourself."

They heard a timid knock at the door. "Mama? Captain? Is everything all right in there?"

Elizabeth struggled to her feet and set the chair to rights. "Everything's _fine, _darling," she said sweetly.

She glared daggers until Barbossa muttered, "'Salright, boy, get gone," then led him to the bed and made him sit down.

"Captain... I wasn't going to criticize you." This was not entirely true, but after having a moment to think about it she'd decided that he was beating himself up enough not to need any help from her. She decided, instead, to attempt to make him feel better - after all, there were rough seas ahead and they would need him at his best. "We've been down this road before, remember?" she coaxed. "You killed Will once to get Davy Jones off our back, and as I recall, you reminded me that there's almost nothing I could say to you that wouldn't make a hypocrite of me - considering the time I did it to Jack."

"S'different though." He dragged himself all the way onto the bed and lay back, staring up at the ceiling. "Jack and me been partners for years."

He seemed to be through lashing out, so Elizabeth climbed up and stretched out next to him. "Jack's a smart man," she reminded him. "If he hasn't learned by now what to expect from you, then..."

He looked over at her. "Why thank ye, Elizabeth, for that positively _glowin _assessment of me character."

"Tell me I'm wrong," she challenged. When he didn't say a word, she propped herself up on an elbow and sighed down at him. "See? You're a pirate. Turning on each other is what pirates _do_. Besides, we _are _going to rescue him, are we not?"

"Course."

She bent to kiss him on the forehead. "Then maybe there's not much harm done. Just get some sleep, all right? We need you to be as well as you can." She laid a damp cloth over his persistently-feverish forehead and started to stroke him to sleep.

It felt so good to be taken care of that he almost let the matter drop. But only almost. "Elizabeth?" He opened his eyes against the rag and asked slowly: "If it were your William who'd done it..."

Her hand tightened over his and though it took a moment, she gave him the truth. "I'd probably tell him it was disgusting and unforgivable."

He nodded. "Thought so."

"But you're not Will. Listen... Jack will probably forgive you," she said after a moment. "I would. Eventually."

He snorted. "Jack'd forgive anybody anything. 'Swhy he's dead and I'm not." He shifted a little and yawned. A moment later, as he was drifting off, out of habit he mumbled, "Night, Jack."

He was too sleepy to notice that it was not Jack's voice that answered _Gnight mate, _and certainly not Jack who kissed him on the cheek and burrowed into the pillow next to him.

* * *

Swann held a perfumed handkerchief to his nose so that he wouldn't faint. "In _there?_" he asked. 

"Yes, there," Norrington answered dully, without looking. He had to keep his head down because of how much the sunlight hurt his eyes. "God only knows what's in there that's so precious to those pirates, but that's where they are going. Considering Elizabeth is on the ship, that means she is going too. Wonderful."

"Is that... _fire_? Those rocks appear to be _moving_... Commodore, that's a place fit only for nightmares - you cannot tell me we're to allow Elizabeth - with my _grandson, _no less - to sail into it?"

"I gave my word." Last night Norrington had drunkenly decided to try and steal Elizabeth back from the pirates, but by the light of day it was clear that doing so would violate the agreement for which Barbossa had paid so dearly. It would be not only unfair, but also unwise, considering the sort of mood the pirate was likely to be in today. So he was thinking that perhaps just going home was a better idea.

"Oh, use your brain, man!" Swann faced him irritably. "You promised to allow _him _go where he was going - and to send Elizabeth over onto his ship. You said nothing about fetching her back again before his ship sails into suicide."

Norrington didn't answer, but his wife spoke up timidly from his side. "Barbossa can hardly complain, James - it's the sort of loophole he might think up himself. Tell him you're only holding onto her until he actually makes it out alive from where he's going. If he really cares for her he won't fight it." She slipped his hand in his. "You can protect her..."

"Because I'm fantastic at protecting people." He sniffed loudly and spat on the deck, still tasting rummy bile at the back of his throat. "Especially friends who time and again, solely out of the goodness of their hearts have neglected to butcher me when we all know that's really what they should have done and-"

"James." Charlotte licked her fingers and tried to smooth down bits of his wig that had not responded kindly to a third-rate rinse job last night in a bucket of seawater. _At least we got most of the vomit out, _she thought. "This is time for _action_, dear. Elizabeth could need our help. There will be plenty of time to think about Jack later. Now fix your collar." She turned to Swann. "Governor?"

Although reluctant to get any closer to the pirates than he had to, after one more spyglass full of the fearsome waters at World's End, Swann gave his permission resume pursuit of the _Pearl_.

Norrington went to look for some coffee to help him feel like a human being again.

* * *

"Do you think they're really going to hang Jack?" Willie asked Barbossa when he woke up from his nap. Elizabeth had kept the truth behind Jack's unfortunate disappearance a secret. 

_He's dead already. Died at noon._ But Barbossa didn't say it. "Stop askin me questions. Now... that ring you're wearin around your neck..."

Willie's hand went to its chain uncertainly. "It's my father's wedding ring."

"I know. Give it here. You can have it back later," he growled in response to the boy's look of unhappy confusion. "I just need to borrow it for somethin. Aye, thanks. Now go away." Barbossa disappeared into his lair with his prize.

When he finally came out again, Willie and Elizabeth were sitting together talking in the shade of a cannon. He settled down dizzily beside them. "Here." He dropped the ring in Willie's lap and explained to Elizabeth, "The witchery is done now - so even if somethin happens to me you'll be able to... you know."

Elizabeth's eyebrows went up. "Give me your hand. No - the other one." She snatched up his left arm and pulled his sleeve up roughly.

"What're you lookin at?" he growled, averse as ever to surprises.

She ran her finger over the brand on his arm. "Just checking to make sure it's still there," she teased. Setting Will's ring up for her and not holding it hostage for anything... that was nice of him. Almost _too _nice. He must really be feeling guilty about Jack...

"Ah." He relaxed, then grinned and touched the mark as well. "Pirate til the end of time, miss. I suppose that ring's my share of good deed for this month. This year, maybe."

"Mmm, yes, I know. I-"

But before Elizabeth could finish, Willie jumped forward. "What's that? Let me see that!" he gasped.

Barbossa showed him. "What - ye didn't know I'm a pirate?"

"No but I mean-... do all pirates have these?"

"No, only the ones stupid enough to get caught. Or the ones stupid enough to do it to 'emselves for some reason. I'd be in the latter cate- Ho! Where're you going?" He and Elizabeth looked at each other as Willie ran off down the hold. "What was that about?"

"I've no idea. He's never seen _my _brand, that much I'm sure of," Elizabeth said.

A moment later Willie returned. "Is that what this thing is for?"

Elizabeth and Barbossa both recognized the rusty _P _immediately. She spoke first. "Willie! That's mine!"

"Actually," Barbossa corrected, "If memory serves, that be the head of a brand belongin to a man who met an unfort-"

"Willie doesn't need to hear about Lord Beckett," Elizabeth interupted. "But what he _does _need to do is explain why he's carrying around property that belongs to his mother without her permission."

Willie explained to Barbossa, hoping the captain could somehow get him out of trouble, "There's a sword hanging on her bedroom wall that I like to play with. I can't reach it, so I get out boxes from the closet and stack them up underneath and climb. One time I noticed that one of the boxes that said _Shoes _clanged and rattled when I moved it. So I opened it up and there were all kinds of crazy things!"

"Can't blame the lad for being curious," Barbossa chuckled, clearly flattered that Elizabeth kept and treasured mementos from their last voyage together. "Say, you didn't happen to find a-"

"That will be quite enough!" Elizabeth snatched the brand away and handed it over. "Here, Captain, you might as well keep it, I very much doubt I'll have use for it in the future." Barbossa was eyeing her son in a thoughtful way she didn't particularly care for, so she added, "Don't even think about it. You and I are pirate enough for the whole ship."

Then they both thought of Jack and sobered up immediately.

* * *

Later on Barbossa stood brooding at the helm, thinking about the troubles that lay ahead. It was depressing enough already, so when someone came and informed him that there were troubles coming from behind as well, his bad mood rose to epic proportions. 

"Sir, it's that Navy ship again, sir. It's coming. What should we do?"

A voice of reason would be helpful here, so Barbossa turned out of habit to confer with Jack... and then remembered that Jack wasn't there, because he'd just killed Jack.

Well. "_Kill 'em,_" he snarled. Ordinarily he believed that thinking should come before acting, and that negotiation could solve more battles than actually battling, but at that moment he was just at the very end of his rope. "They're breakin the deal, tryin to stop me goin where I want to go... I want every last one of 'em's heads piled in my cabin before sundown." He turned to storm off and then continued to rave over his shoulder: "I want them all dead and I want that ship at the bottom of the sea! Kill 'em all and cut 'em to pieces, _yarrrr_!"

Gibbs began to give the orders: all hands, let's go, run up the Jolly Roger and load the guns.

"With what?" someone asked. It had been a running joke for years, ever since the time Captain Sparrow (may he rest in peace) had made them fire stale bread instead of cannonballs.

But Gibbs wasn't laughing this time. "Give 'em some nails and crushed glass. Captain's in a foul mood, that ought to cheer him up some."

"Nails and crushed glass?" someone asked from beside him.

Gibbs looked down and frowned. "You'd best get below for this, kid."

"Nails and crushed glass?" Willie repeated. "We're going to shoot that at them? My _grandfather _is on that ship!"

Gibbs was hardly listening. He swigged from his flask and thought through how best to organize the battle, and told the kid: "Then your grandfather oughtn't to have crossed Captain Barbossa, ought he. Get yourself below. Get Miss Elizabeth out of here too. Get the both of you to where it's safe. This could get a little messy."

* * *

The _Pearl _fired first, and Norrington didn't take it lying down. After a round or two of cannon balls had been exchanged, though, the ships closed distance on each other and started the killing by hand. 

Barbossa himself was right in the thick of it, even though he knew he wasn't doing so well. He knew he was hallucinating a little bit - every now and then he would catch sight of Jack out of the corner of his eye, or parry a blow that wasn't there, and then realize that it was just his woozy mind playing tricks on him.

But when he caught sight of the peacock - the treacherous cur who had taken _Jack _and then not upheld his half of the bargain... he knew it was no hallucination.

"You!" A path cleared for Barbossa as he barralled across the deck. "_You! _We had a _deal_!" He sheathed his sword and pulled out a pistol, long before he was near enough to have a clear shot. "Course it be too much to ask ye to stand and fight like a man... Just hold still, so that I can shoot you like the dog you are!"

Amazingly enough, instead of protesting that he had come in peace just to keep Elizabeth out of danger, Norrington complied. He dropped his sword and clasped his hands behind him and faced the pirate with his head high. "Do it."

Barbossa would have - had he not caught sight of (hallucinated) both Elizabeth and Charlotte standing watching from a distance. Charlotte had her hands together in a prayerful gesture, but Elizabeth just shook her head at him with her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

He narrowed his eyes and stuck his pistol into his belt. "Pick up your sword," he ordered with disgust. "Your wife shouldn't have to see that."

Norrington did, and held it uncertainly for a moment, then stood up straight and looked down the blade at his enemy. "You deserve to die as much as I do."

"Aye." Barbossa drew his cutlass and meant to make some snide remark about speaking of people who apparently deserve to die, how's Jack... but Norrington jumped on him before he could get the words out.

Norrington was hungover and Barbossa was injured, but they both had enough demons to exorcize that it was one hell of a sword fight anyway. People cleared away from them to give them space to butcher each other unimpeded, and they made good use of it, jumping around and throwing things at one another and slashing and parrying with everything their decades of experience had taught them.

But unfortunately they were not allowed to fight in peace forever - Willie eventually saw what was happening. It was two people he cared about trying to kill each other, so he dashed between them and grabbed onto Barbossa's arm and shouted _"No_!"

Barbossa tossed the sword to his left hand, held Willie out of the way with his right, and continued to fight. Willie twisted free and tried jumping in the way of Norrington's blade. Norrington only just managed to turn it aside in time. This time they _both _shoved the boy out of the way and kept fighting, frantically now because the sooner they ended this the less likely they were to stab the kid and God only knew what Elizabeth would do if _that _happened...

Barbossa finally had the upper hand. He parried Norrington's blade and knocked him to his knees, then kicked the sword from his hand. He swung his bloody cutlass in a wide arc in order to gut the peacock once and for all, but at the last second Willie threw himself forward and got squarely between Barbossa's blade and its victim.

Barbossa let go of his sword in the nick of time, mid-swing, and it went flying across the deck.

* * *

TBC. 


	26. Then: Will asks a question

A/N: Ok, yes this is short, but bear with me – the next NOW chapter is already done and I'll post it Wednesday or Thursday. A cutesy little tidbit about Will, who believe it or now I'm beginning to miss. Enjoy.

**A few weeks pre-accord. On the way home from World's End. **

* * *

It was the perfect time – Barbossa was alone. Elizabeth was sleeping and Jack was off celebrating life by raising a toast to each and every one of his Kraken scars (he was quite drunk) and now was the time.

It still took Will a moment to get up the courage to approach. "Captain?"

"Mornin, Turner. Let me guess…" Barbossa turned to face Will and drawled, "Y'just simply _have _to talk to me." _Mocking _didn't even begin to cover it.

Will winced. "Look, I just… I mean, I really do appreciate your traipsing around World's End looking for me. And I know it had to be Elizabeth's idea. It's just… I want to know, how did she…err…" After a moment he tried again. "I mean, did anything…"

"Did anything…?" Barbossa prompted, clearly enjoying himself too much to make this any easier.

"Did anything… happen…?"

"Acourse – a whole couple weeks of things, in fact. I drank up the last of the coffee, Gibbs took a fall from the r-"

"Captain, please! I have to know." Will tried to keep his tone polite. "Did, you know, did anything _happen_? Between you and Elizabeth?"

Barbossa draped his arm over Will's shoulders and rested his head on Will's neck. "Will." He was laughing. "Will, bein dead be a bit disorientin. I know that. So I'll give ye one more chance _not _to ask that question."

"But I-"

Barbossa shook him. "If you ask me, I'll tell you. And if I tell you, you'll know. And once you know, you'll never be able to forget. So-"

"All _right,_" Will interrupted. "All right, thank you – you've said quite enough." He shrugged the arm off and folded his hands on the railing and twisted them nervously.

Barbossa came to stand beside him. "Course, you know I'd tell you that whether or not I actually touched her. The missie is all yours, Turner." He patted Will on the shoulder and for a moment Will was relieved… until he added, with a small nasty smile: "Least from now on."

* * *

TBC.

Leave me love, and check back for an update soon!


	27. Now: Many people are found

A/N: This was done without spellcheck, so if there are typos, sorry!.

In answer to the question about last chapter's chronology: it's a THEN chapter taking place during _The Courage and Fortitude to..._ (what was I thinking when I picked out that title??)

* * *

With both hands free now that his sword was gone, Barbossa grabbed Willie by the shoulders. He was fully prepared to postpone the actual battle until the kid had received the beating he deserved.

Willie hung on and wouldn't stand up, shielding Norrington with his body because he was convinced that there was no reasoning with Barbossa at this point, and that if Norrington were left unprotected for even a moment, it would be the end of him.

At last Barbossa succeeded in yanking the kid loose and tossing him to the deck. While he was doing that, though, Norrington picked up a weapon. The next thing Barbossa knew there was a hilt protruding from his stomach and that probably meant he'd been run through and-

_Arrr. _He reflexively put both hands to the sword and pulled it out of himself. Afterwards, he thought, _Don't do that, idiot, or you'll bleed to death- _but it was too late. He put one hand over the wound to try and stop it up, and looked down at the horror-struck boy at his feet._ Aright hurry up this is bad... _"Find me my sword. _Mine_, boy, I need me own blade. Bring it to me. Andontell anyone what's happened."

He lurched off towards the cabin and realized, too late, that he had forgotten to shoot Norrington in retaliation. Would he never learn that a death wound was not a signal to stop fighting? He could have at least got himself a draw. Shame on him. But no time for that now, all that mattered was getting inside and getting Tia's magic done somehow and then getting off through the Gates as fast as he could. The _Pearl _was too busy fighting to go? Fine, he would go alone - there was no time to wait. He would definitely die of this wound sooner or later. Probably sooner. 

When Willie crept into the cabin two minutes later, the captain was seated at the table with his head down, pounding his fist softly against the wood and mumbling a constant stream of words too quiet for Willie to hear.

"Captain? They're still fighting out there. What should I-"

Barbossa jumped and blinked the world back into focus. "Boy. Willie. Good - there's not much time." He sat all the way up, swallowing down the rest of his litany about how he couldn't take any more and trying to sound authoritative. "Y'ave my sword? Mine?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Stop that cryin, f'you do as I say this'll all turn out all right. Quit lookin at that."

"But..." Willie was afraid to argue with him, but he was _sure _that stuffing a dirty rag into an open wound and then tying a still dirtier rag over it did not constitute proper medical care.

"First drink some of this." He shoved a crusty bottle of smelly dark syrup into Willie's hand and Willie obediently took a big gulp.

"What was that?" he coughed afterwards.

"Generally it be wiser to ask _before _y'drink, boy. Now... my sword. Blood it."

"What?"

Barbossa took his sword and closed one of Willie's hands around the blade, then put the boy's other hand to the hilt and tugged. Willie understood, but was so nervous he squeezed far too hard and pulled too fast and gave himself two deep cuts on the palm instead of one shallow one.

"Good, now take-" Barbossa decided it was better to talk only when necessary, so he touched his hand to his own bleeding stomach and then sketched a symbol on the table.

Willie followed suit, then stared up at Barbossa expectantly. "What's this for?"

"M-magic," Barbossa breathed. "No questions. When I ssay chant somethin, chant it. When I d-d-draw somethin, y'draw it too. And when I _-ah- _when I say think hard about somethin, you think ab-bout it with all your heart. That's it. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

He talked Willie through the entire enchantment, and was thrilled to see the boy faint at the end of it. If the spell drained him so much that his eyes rolled back and he collapsed in a heap, it _had _to have worked, didn't it?

Barbossa hoped so. He picked up his blade and tried not to worry when it didn't feel any different. He slipped it into his belt and then nudged Willie with his foot. "Wake up!" he barked as sharply as he could. And then he had to put his head down again. There would be no more barking today for any reason.

Willie opened his eyes and remembered where he was and got to his feet, then helped the captain do the same. (He hoped that hearing someone else say "Bugger the virgin and child" didn't count as a sin.) "Now what?"

Barbossa got to his feet. "Now we lower a b... boat," he grated, "And I try to row."

"_Row_?"

"Aye. H'many months have I lasted with a hole in me guts, hmm? What's a f-few days more. Once I'm past the Gates it's always like time st...ands still there, I bet I could last a year if I... had to."

"Um..."

Barbossa realized that the boy had no idea what he was talking about. "Never mind," he spat. "Let's go." He started to walk, and then discovered that words to which he usually had a violent allergy were completely speakable when Willie was his only audience. "Help me."

Barbossa leaned heavily on him and they were almost to the door when he decided to push the envelope still further. "Go into the drawer by the -_fff- _bed anlookfora little blue vial," he ordered in a succession of little gasps. "I need somethin for the pain. Hurry up."

Willie found it, and also grabbed a full bottle of rum just in case. That made him think of provisions - the captain was raving about lasting for days and weeks... If that was to be even remotely possible, he would need something to eat and drink.

Fifteen minutes later the boat was packed up and in the water and Willie was standing with Barbossa inside it. "Please let me go with you. I know I'm small but I promise I can row-"

"No." Barbossa's thinking was too muddled to be trusted, so all he had left was instinct - which said, _You are completely helpless. You are a sitting duck. Stay as far away from people as possible._

"Please! You're not going to make it on your own, sir." Barbossa only shook his head, and Willie felt his eyes fill up with tears no matter how hard he tried to act tough. "Please don't go."

"Don't go? What exactly- never mind. Just pass your mother the orders I gave ye."

"Then p-promise me you'll come back." On any other day Willie would have recognized the demand as absurd, but at the moment he was too distraught to be rational.

"I'm tryin." Barbossa sat and picked up the oars. "The longer y'keep me here, the less chance I have. Now give me your ring, and get out of my boat."

Willie wiped his eyes and handed over the ring from around his neck. Thinking it was meant to be a keepsake, he got even more emotional and held out his arms for a hug, but the pirate recoiled. "If you want to be coddled, try your mother," he snarled, slipping Will's wedding ring into his pocket. "Tell her 's'all goin accordin to plan - which is a lie. Tell her you did well and she should be proud of you. Now, out."

Willie climbed out of the boat. "I'll see you soon, captain," he called from the rope ladder.

Barbossa would have liked to fire at him, but didn't feel well enough to be sure of his aim, and he thought that if he accidentally shot the kid, he actually _would _be sorry. So he rowed off without answering.

* * *

It was a hard, miserable trip through the Gates, but fortunately there were few sea monsters willing to bother with a lone rowboat containing just a single prickly little morsel of human being who stank too much of witchcraft to make a tasty meal anyway.

The seas were so rough that waves frequently washed right into his boat, sometimes ice-cold and sometimes boiling hot. He was drenched with seawater and drenched with sweat, and still leaking blood on top of it all. Worst of all, he soon ran out of anything that could be used to even remotely dull the pain in his abdomen. It hurt badly enough to make him decide that from now on he would forego using fatal gut wounds as an interrogation method - it was just a little bit too cruel after all.

He made it through. And when he finally reached the depressing, dark waters of World's End, as he'd expected, his wound got quiet and the seas even quieter. He started rowing a little harder, trying to ignore the first flutterings of hope irritatin his insides. He kept meticulous track of how far he was going and in what directions - his hunch was that death was hard to come by here, and so if he got lost it was going to be a long lonely row for the rest of forever.

Every now and then he guessed it was time to eat and ate something, but other than that it was just sit and row and follow the bobbing wedding ring wherever it chose to lead him.

He was practically comatose with fatigue and boredom when the ring finally found its owner.

* * *

Barbossa hauled the body aboard and thumped it on the back and almost immediately it began to cough up water. He waited until it stopped coughing and sat up and looked around before addressing it. "Morning, Mr. Turner." 

Will was so disoriented it took him a moment to even produce: "C-Captain Barbossa?"

"None other."

Will squinted at him. They hadn't seen each other in near ten years but even considering that... "You look awful."

"Why thank ye. _You _look fantastic." It was true - the little aging Will had done suited him very well; he had lost some of the boyishness from his face without yet looking harsh or weathered. Barbossa found himself a little jealous.

"Where am I?"

"Give it a bit, it'll all be comin back to ye. You know perfectly well where we are." Will was shivering so hard that Barbossa took off his coat and balled it up and threw it over.

By the time Will had got enough coordination to stand and get his arms in the sleeves and sit down again, he had figured most of it out.

"I recognize this p-p-place - we're at World's End. So I suppose I'm dead. Yes - I remember now." He touched a swirling scar that began just in front of his ear and stretched up over his temple and onto his forehead. "I remember I was burned. I jumped. But nothing much after that, other than everything hurting. I suppose I died right there... How long ago was that?"

"You think I've been keepin track of your birthdays and deathdays and what-have-ye?" Barbossa looked offended at the idea. "Figure it out yourself. I think your boy's almost ten, if that helps."

Will did the math and nodded. Just a year or two - he could live with that. He hadn't missed out on his son's childhood, his wife would still be the same beauti- _Elizabeth - ohmyGod... _"So may I ask why you're here?" Despite Will's best efforts to sound nonchalant, his voice was shaking. "Is Elizabeth all right?"

Barbossa laughed. "By God, you are irritatin. She's fine. I came for a couple reasons. First: Elizabeth misses ye and she deserves better than to sit around wallowin in misery. Second..." he watched Will's face carefully. "I need a favor, and there's no man in the world I'd trust with this save for ye."

Will frowned. "You'd trust _me_? What about Jack?"

"Jack and I... well, we've had a bit of a fallin out recently," he answered delicately. "Sides, it's not the kind of thing one asks of Jack. Not of any pirate, in fact."

"Then... what is it?"

Barbossa drew his knife and held it out hilt-first. Will only frowned in confusion, so Barbossa rolled his eyes and then opened his collar.

Now it was unmistakable. "Y-you want me to kill you?"

"Aye. You do feel better for havin been dead, don't you?" In fact Will _did _feel excellent. Nothing hurt anywhere, including a bad elbow that had been achey for years, and he felt unusually alert and vigorous. The benefits of a long sleep, perhaps, magnified dramatically. Even his eyesight seemed clearer than it had been lately.

"I do."

"Then do me the same. Give your word of honour that ye won't abandon me here, and I'll let ye kill me." Barbossa chuckled at Will's shocked expression. "Dream come true, isn't it?"

"In some ways yes, but..." Will shrugged. "Captain, I can't. I can't just kill people in cold blood."

"I saw ye do for Bootstrap. It's a simple matter, it'll only take a minute." Death was the only thing sure to put an end to his gut wounds and now, now that he finally had a trustworthy murderer, now was the time to try it. Besides, considering he'd really sunk things with Davy, it wasn't really likely he'd be making it back to World's End any time soon. Had to be now.

Fortunately Will didn't put up too big a fuss. "Are you sure? What if I can't find you again? What if something goes wrong?"

"This sword's fresh off the enchantin table," Barbossa answered. "I talked your son through the whole thing and far's I could see, he got it right every step of the way."

"You know my son? Willie helped you with this?"

"Aye. Y'know, he's a girly little thing, Will - he cries all the time." There - now nobody would accuse him of being soft on the kid.

Will blinked. "Dare I ask why? Please tell me you haven't been stabbing him or beating or branding him or God knows what else you do to people..."

Barbossa shook his head. "We've been gettin along fine. I hardly have to knock him around at all."

Somehow Will did not find this very reassuring.

"Anyhow: take my sword. It'll find me. Just make sure I'm all the way dead before ye throw me over the side. Well? Will you?"

"I suppose there's no reason why not. Err... do I have to use the knife? I'd rather strangle you. It's just as quiet, and less... you know... less violent somehow."

Barbossa shrugged. "Why not."

They sat down in the center of the rowboat so as not to risk capsizing it. "Well... all right... err, sorry about this." Will got a handful of Barbossa's collar and twisted his fist to cut off the pirate's air supply.

Barbossa rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on the side of the boat.

It was all going fine for awhile, until they discovered that sitting still while being strangled was not a skill Barbossa had mastered to any acceptable degree. As soon as the world started going dark he fought reflexively and tried to dislodge the hand at his throat.

Will let go immediately. "What's wrong?" Barbossa wheezed. "Why won't ye finish?" They tried again, this time with Barbossa sitting on his hands, but again at the critical second he started to struggle and Will released him. "You're enjoyin this," the pirate accused, head in his hands.

"If only." Will sighed. "All right, we'll use the knife. Then we can't change our minds halfway in. I'm not going to kill somebody who's fighting back."

"Make it a clean cut, the way I did you," Barbossa ordered.

"I know, I know. As you said, I already have _experience _with this process - both ends of it." Will crawled around behind him and touched the knife to his neck. There was a small, faded scar under the captain's jaw that conveniently marked where one would stick the point in to begin slitting the throat. Will squinted. No, make that _two _little scars - _two _times the pirate had apparently avoided death by only the narrowest of margins. "I can't believe you're trusting me with this," Will murmured. "You of all people."

Barbossa shrugged and closed his eyes. "Just hurry up."

"Fair enough. Well… sorry."

Will had been fantasizing about this moment in various forms for over ten years now, from the first time he awoke in a Port Royal gutter knowing some _pirate _had made off with his beloved. On the other hand, for nearly as long he had also been tormented with nightmares of that awful day in the hold of the _Dutchman _when he'd had to cut the throat of his own father.

But Will was a big boy now, and he firmly put those thoughts aside and got to work. Without another word, he tilted his victim's head back and slashed deep. He watched Barbossa jerk about and bleed out and go still, and though it took a while for the stubborn heart to stop beating, Will found he didn't mind the whole thing too much - sharing the boat with a dying pirate was not nearly as disturbing as he had expected. He was even calm enough to remember to rifle through the captain's pockets before throwing him overboard, as he'd learned by experience that though clothes could follow you back from the dead, for some reason most of your knicknacks and jewelry did not.

* * *

When Barbossa opened his eyes, Will Turner was kneeling over him wearing his coat and hat. "Morning, Captain!"

Barbossa sat up slowly. He wasn't in his bed. Was this a dream- no, this was World's End. It came back to him pretty quickly. "Mornin, Turner," he growled back, and was thrilled to notice that for the first time in months, talking was completely painless. He sat up and touched his stomach, and it felt fine. _It felt fine. _"More thanks than you can imagine, boy."

"Well... you look better." Will poured a handful of jewelry into his lap and handed him his hat back. "Back to normal. You don't necessarily look _fantastic_... but then, you never did."

Barbossa's first thought was _And the boy STILL says whatever's on his mind without a second of thought... _but then he saw the little smirk on Will's face and realized it was something else entirely: the boy _had _thought before speaking, and had decided to deliver the insult anyway. "Time was ye wouldn't dare tease me," he growled, not sure if he liked this new development or not.

Will picked up the oars. "Yes, well, time was you weren't at World's End in a rowboat with no idea how to get home, either. I know the route and you don't. That means I can tease you all I want - you need me."

Barbossa's hand shot to his wrist. "Aye, you know the _first_ part of the route - back to where I picked you up," he agreed. "But from there, _I_know the route and _you_don't. That means we need each other."He settled back in his seat, calm because he had no real fear that Will would try to backstab him. "Besides, we're not goin home just yet. First there be a slight detour: we're goin to look for Jack."

"Jack? Jack's here?" Will frowned. "He's dead?"

"Aye..." Barbossa began to put his rings on so he wouldn't have to make eye contact as he explained, "That little fallin out I told ye about..."

Will sighed and put the oars down. "All right," he said heavily, realizing that he was once again about to be drawn into a pirate quarrel that was really none of his business. "Let's hear it."

* * *

A few hours later, Jack was opening his eyes on the floor of the boat. He sat up and for a long time he didn't say anything, and Barbossa's vague hope that he would simply snap, _Great plan and all but could you at least have let me in on it first? _disappeared. He swallowed. "Jack... I'm sorrier than I can s-"

"No." Jack shook his head and then shivered when it sent cold water down his neck. Barbossa gestured for Will to give him the coat, and only then did Jack notice their boatmate. "Will!" he said, his grin unforced. "Bloody hell - Will Turner. It's good to see you, mate."

"Likewise, Jack."

They shook hands and then Jack sat to wrap himself in Barbossa's coat. "Look, Barbossa, we'll talk later, all right?" he said quietly, eyes on the floor. "How about a truce til we have some privacy?"

"As you wish, Jack. "S'your call."

"That'll be a nice change, then. So... back to the _Pearl_?" Jack suggested.

"Actually I was thinkin maybe we ought to run another errand first. Considerin Davy's likely to be feelin... oh, say a little _vengeful _when he sees us again..."

Jack nodded. "You want to provide him with somebody else to take it out on." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Who did you have in mind?"

Barbossa rummaged around under the boat's seat until he found the article he was looking for. "Nobody you'll lose sleep over, see?" He tossed him Lord Beckett's pirate brand, and Jack thoughtfully traced the _P _with his finger.

Will had been watching this exchange with fascination - he remembered Jack and Barbossa best as bitter enemies who'd finally forged a mistrustful alliance when they were each forced to grudgingly recognize the other's genius. Of course he'd heard stories about their success as co-captains and the amazing adventures they'd led the _Pearl _into over the past decade, but it was still odd to watch in person as they fluently exchanged ideas that were only half-articulated, and then as Jack reached without thinking into the correct pocket of Barbossa's coat to find his flask. Their familiarity was remarkable... especially considering this was just after one had betrayed and murdered the other.

"No objections." Jack looked over and asked, with a little smile, "Will?"

It took Will a moment to realize he was being asked for input, and then another moment to actually consider the question. When he understood, he was horrified. "Are you asking me if we should disturb a man's eternal rest to send him back so that a monster can kill him all over again, probably torture him to death without a shred of pity?"

The pirates exchanged glances. "Yep," "Aye," they said at the same time.

"You two are unbelievable!"

Jack cocked his head and asked hopefully, "Does that mean yes?"

* * *

When the three of them hauled Lord Beckett's body aboard, there was a little doubt from all sides. "He looks so... _young,_" Will breathed. "Are you sure that's him?"

Barbossa snorted. "Y'expect me to remember every man I've ever killed?"

Jack stared down at the pale face and slack blue lips. "It's hard to say without the wig," he said finally. "Here..." He took one of Beckett's limp arms and bent it up and around so that the lace of his cuff fell over his forehead. "Hmm... that's a little more like it, I think..."

At that moment the body jerked and the eyes opened. Beckett screamed, Jack screamed back, and they both scrambled away from each other to opposite sides of the boat.

Will had to laugh. Jack was cowering in Barbossa's lap, hissing at Lord Beckett like an angry rodent. Beckett was covering his head with his arms, shaking so badly that his chattering teeth could be heard even over all of Jack's noises. "Good afternoon, Lord Beckett," Will said politely.

Beckett uncovered his head to peek at whoever had spoken to him. "Wh-who are you?" he gasped out. "Where am I?"

"Who are you?" Jack repeated incredulously, from the floor of the boat because Barbossa had ejected him from his lap. "_Who are you_? Don't you recognize bloody William Turner, then?"

"W-W-William Turner?" Beckett stared at him. "Impossible. This man's far too old to be William Turner. Jack Sparrow... there's no mistaking _you_, though, is there."

"Actually, it's _Captain _Jack Sparrow, still, and as to why dear Will looks so _mature _shall we say, it's-"

"Jack, he's shivering," Will interrupted. "Give him the coat."

Jack clutched Barbossa's coat around him with both arms. "No!"

Barbossa at last deemed it time to put in his two cents. "The reason we've aged and ye have not," he said gravely, "Is you've been dead for goin on ten years now. Perhaps you'll remember me? I'm the one did it to you."

It took Beckett a moment to wrap his mind around it. "Yes... yes I do remember you, Captain. You stabbed me in the back. Elizabeth Swann stayed with me..."

"Elizabeth Turner, now," Will corrected.

"But she's a widow, now," Jack added, to confuse Beckett worse.

Beckett ignored him and looked around. "So I am deceased. Then what is this place? The land of the dead?"

"Pretty much." Jack squinted at an island in the distance. "Starboard, mate, just a little."

Will turned the boat a bit and kept rowing. Beckett swallowed. "What do you want with me? I doubt you've come to rescue me out of the goodness of your hearts..."

Barbossa and Will both looked to Jack, wordlessly nominating him spokesman, and Jack twirled his hands delicately. "Well... in fact you may not like this," he began. "But here's how it is..."

* * *

TBC.

Oh man. I'm so psyched that Beckett is back! It's good to see him... even if only for a little while. I can't help but suspect that Jack may not be about to tell him the truth. I suppose we'll see.

Don't worry - more action next time. Thanks for being patient and for all the feedback. You guys are great!


	28. Now: Elizabeth sneaks off

A/N: There's a bit more rowboat-sitcom going on in here, but I just couldn't resist – the four of them stuck together there (especially with Beckett knowing they want to kill him and Jack brooding on how Barbossa _did _just kill him and Will wondering how his girl's been behaving) has potential for some awesome interactions.

* * *

With Norrington dazed and almost listless, ignoring the battle around him, and Barbossa nowhere to be found, the fighting aboard the _Pearl _became half-hearted very quickly. Some of the pirates took it upon themselves to surrender to the soldiers. Some of the soldiers also threw down their weapons and gave up, having learned by now that mercy for prisoners was almost a sure thing when dealing with the _Black Pearl._

There were of course a number of individuals on both sides who felt that death was preferable to surrender, and these kept fighting even while the parlay was going on.

"Shouldn't we tell them to give it up?" Elizabeth asked, pointing. "It's hard to hold a conversation over all that bellowing."

Norrington hardly bothered to shrug. "Let's get this over with. You've the authority to negotiate on behalf of the _Pearl_?"

"I suppose so – Gibbs is drunk and I don't see the captain. Do you know where he went?"

"Well actually..." Norrington tried to think of the best way to break the news to her - _I killed him _seemed a little too blunt - but fortunately, before he did, Willie rushed up to them.

"I have orders for you, mother," he said breathlessly. "Captain says you're to make peace immediately with terms like this: Norrington can have the men and do what he likes with them. Although if possible he's to spare the ones who've sailed with the _Pearl _the longest: Mr. Gibbs, Mr. Three-Eye-Half-Brain, and the crazy man who hides in the rigging. And if he can find the monkey around here he's to take care of her as well. But he says the _Pearl _is not to be sunk, not to be touched at all in fact. It's to be left here. For him to sail home in."

Elizabeth frowned. "To sail home in? By himself?"

"Elizabeth." Norrington stepped up and took her gently by the shoulders. "I think Barbossa was speaking figuratively," he told her, relieved that his voice was holding up under pressure for a change. "He and I were fighting, and I... I wounded him. Fatally. He asked that his sword be brought into his cabin with him. And I don't think he's coming back out again." He said the whole thing without flinching and then added, "I am truly sorry that it has come to this."

Elizabeth's mouth opened and closed several times, but she found she had nothing of value to say. Finally she just turned away, but before she'd gotten even a step Norrington had grabbed hold of her. "Elizabeth, please-"

"I have to see him. At least to say goodbye." Her voice was low and so tight it was almost mechanical, and she fought stubbornly to get free or Norrington's arms.

"No," Willie said, "Stop it, Mama, it's too late. He's gone."

"He is _WHAT_!"

"I'm sorry! I _asked _him if I should get you to say goodbye and he said no and what was I supposed to do?"

"Come on." Norrington re-adjusted his grip, and gestured for Willie to take her other arm.

Which he did - gently. "Mama? Let's go. We'll be fine - we should be _used _to it by now," he added bitterly. "I'll see you tonight, this'll all turn out fine... that's what they always say, isn't it. Well now I know. And I don't _care_!" He had been so proud of himself for how he was holding up, until on the very last word he lost it and began sobbing outright.

When she heard her son start crying, Elizabeth elbowed Norrington in the guts to free herself (something Barbossa had taught her when it became apparent she would never learn to throw a decent punch). Even though the urge to rush back towards the cabin was intense, she instead bent down and picked Willie up. "Let's go," she told Norrington coldly and started walking, carrying the boy even though he was far too big for it. "Gather up everybody who's not dead yet. We're going home."

A few of the pirates cried at the idea of leaving the _Pearl_. Some begged to be allowed to scuttle her for a decent ending, rather than letting her float and rot for the rest of forever, but Elizabeth would hear none of it. "Captain's orders," she said firmly. "It's to be left afloat, as he wished."

She stood straight and proud and eventually got her own way. And no matter how hard she tried _not _to think of it, there it was: ("Now that the funeral and everything is over, I suppose you'll be moving back home again?" "Willie and I are staying _here_, Father. Will was so proud of being master of his own house. If you think I'm going to give that up-" "Elizabeth, be sensible-" "I don't have to. I say we're staying, and my mind is made up, and we're staying.")

"You're thinking of Father again, aren't you, Mama." Elizabeth jumped. She looked around and discovered that she was sitting alone in a cabin with Willie, aboard Norrington's ship, at night. She hardly remembered leaving the deck, didn't remember eating dinner at all...

"I'm sorry, Willie, I just... we were so _close_!" she bit her lip and forbid herself to cry.

"Close to what?"

She sniffed and gave him a somewhat watery smile. "Nothing." Willie didn't seem about to let it go, so she thought quickly and said, "Tell me what happened with Captain Barbossa. At least it'll take our mind off your father, right?"

Having no idea why Will was so much on Elizabeth's mind today, Willie was a little confused at the directive. But he obeyed anyway. "I know this makes no sense," he began. "But after Commodore Norrington stabbed him we went inside and he made me do some kind of... I don't know… magic spell. And he _told _me everything would be all right," Willie added, accusing and aggressive. "He _said _it would be fine if I did as he said. He's a liar." It felt so disloyal it hurt, saying that, but Willie preferred feeling guilty to feeling sad. "It's not fine at all – and he knew it and he just made that up to trick me. I should have known, right? What a liar."

She pet his hair and said without thinking, "Come on, sweetheart, I've told you how grownups are, sometimes we lie because we love someone and don't want to hurt them. Remember?"

She was thinking of the time Will had said that Mr. Pointears was away on a trip... which Willie believed until the coachman approached him with a new puppy and a very detailed apology regarding Mr. Pointears's unfortunate habit of running underneath carriages.

Fortunately Willie was not so lost in the past. Instead, he seized on the bit that made no sense. "Love someone?" he repeated.

Elizabeth blinked. A good point. Reining in his tongue to spare other people's feelings was not exactly something Barbossa was known for, was it? Neither was he prone to undue optimism. But then... if he wasn't lying and wasn't wrong... why say everything was fine? "Sweetie, what did he actually say to you?" she asked, a little tense. Her head ached with the effort of not hoping.

"That everything would be fine and that he would try to come back. But he couldn't even _walk_, Mother, and I thought how does he think he's going to row, but he said he could last a year or some crazy-"

"Row?"

"Yes."

"You said he was dead!"

"Dead? No - I said he was _gone_. He made me lower him a boat," Willie explained. "I didn't want to - I _knew _it was a bad idea. But he made me. And he wouldn't let me go with him."

"Go? Willie... where did he go?"

Her tone got him more flustered than he was already. He stuttered out a lot of confused words, but Elizabeth heard _Gates _and that was enough. Immediately, dress notwithstanding (her father had corralled her into proper attire while she was too grief-stricken to protest), Elizabeth jumped up and wrapped some things up in a sheet and made Willie demonstrate his covert boat-lowering skills again.

She rowed back towards the _Pearl, _knowing she was staking her life on Captain Barbossa's ability to do something that was likely impossible. But she felt good about it - good enough even to let Willie come along.

* * *

When Jack finally finished his partially-true explanation, Lord Beckett sat back and folded his hands in his lap. "I'll think about it."

"You'll think about it?" Will repeated. "Forgive me but I don't think they were offering you a choice."

Beckett turned to him slowly and despite being soaked and wigless and shaking with cold, managed a look of contempt. "I am of no value to you if I'm dead," he said calmly. "Despite all of Sparrow's pussyfooting around the issue, it sounds to me like you intend to offer me as a sacrifice to Davy Jones, to be tormented and killed in whatever way he chooses. Am I correct?"

"Sounds about right," Barbossa purred.

"Very well. Then you'll see how very little there is in it for me as things stand. You'll have to make me a handsome offer in exchange for my cooperation," he said haughtily, "Or I shall simply kill myself without delay. At least that would spare me the famed cruelties of Davy Jones's ship... whatever they are."

"Kill yourself how?" Jack had to ask. "Of the four of us you're the only one unarmed."

"He'll die of cold, that's how," Will said grimly. "Jack, give him the coat, come on." Jack ignored him, so Will sighed and pulled his own shirt over his head. "Here – Lord Beckett, dry off at least."

Beckett eyed it with disdain, but given a choice between frostbite and indignity he decided he would take the indignity. He toweled off as best he could and then tossed Will's shirt down into the puddle on the floor of the boat. Smirk. "Sorry."

"Well that's mature." Will wrung his shirt out and hung it over the side of the boat to dry. "Now, what was that about your killing yourself? I'm becoming interested."

Jack took over. "He was just saying how he was going to find a way of committing suicide - despite being bound hand and foot and poked at irregular intervals with very sharp sticks." He leaned forward eagerly to listen.

"Allow me to say," Beckett began coldly and with a lot of dignity, "That even if I did not-"

"-Or maybe," Jack interrupted, "Instead of poking him with sticks I'll be smacking him around with a big, cold, wet _fish_. Because he's _afraid _of fish, really afraid of 'em, specially of turning into 'em, did you know that?"

Even without the deathly glares being shot his way, Barbossa wouldn't have missed that. "All right, all right, Jack, I hear ye. _You're _the one said you want a truce til we-"

"What - I was talking about Lord Beckett, mate," Jack answered with patently fake innocence. "D'you have a guilty conscience or something?"

Beckett made a mental note of the friction between them - he was going to have to work every possible angle and use every advantage he had or he really might end up as the newest exhibit in Davy Jones's freak show. "As I was saying," he began again, "Even if I did not carry poison capsules on me - and I do carry two - I would still have an intensely inventive imagination when it comes to inflicting bodily harm upon people, including myself, with whatever objects may be nearest at hand. For example, if I wanted to kill myself in this very boat..." his eyes skimmed over what was in front of him and came to rest on his own folded hands. "I would simply rip a piece of lace from my sleeve and dip it in the water to make it soggy, and then stick it down my throat. I could choke to death before your very eyes," he bragged. "I imagine Davy Jones would have precious little use for me _then_."

"Now that's a little scary, love," Jack told him gently.

Barbossa gave him a nod of appreciation. "Inventive indeed. But useless - this be the land of the dead, remember? If you killed yourself we'd just be turnin straight around to fetch you back. Might even be annoyed enough to kill ye all over again... and then fetch you right back a third time, of course."

"Not without this." Will stood up, shirtless, hair flying everywhere, and held Beckett's _P _brand out over the water. "He's to be treated humanely or I swear I'll drop it."

Barbossa put his face in his hands and groaned. Jack leaned back in his seat and grinned. "Ladies and gentlemen, William Turner is back on deck!"

Will winced when he realized that he had already done something dramatic and impulsive and ridiculous before he'd even officially reached the land of the living again. "Look, I swear I'm not like this anymore," he begged. "Not usually. It's just... you're talking about murder and suicide and-"

"Really bad eggs," Jack agreed, still smiling. "Sit down, mate. Relax. We'll try and solve this the civilized way." He looked around Will towards Barbossa, and began to mouth and pantomime. _Wait til we get to the ship_, he mouthed, sketching the outline of a ship with his hands. _When he's not looking_, pointing to Will and then covering his eyes, _You can do whatever you want to him_. Jack, too, considered himself very inventive, and his crude visual suggestions for how to secure Beckett's cooperation gave Will the chills even though he knew Jack was probably just joking.

"Truly charming, Sparrow," Beckett said with a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Now who wants to talk business?"

Barbossa nodded. "It's as you said - we're plannin to turn you over to Davy Jones, and we expect him to do for ye soon's he remembers who you are. We didn't think it much of an imposition, given that you're already dead."

"For which, if memory serves, I have you to thank."

"Aye. Y'be welcome."

Beckett cocked his head. "So where is Miss Swann in all this?"

Will was very proud of himself for keeping quiet instead of leaping to correct him with _Mrs. Turner._

"She's back with the _Pearl_, waitin for me."

"For you?"

Barbossa made a face. "For Turner, then. What business of yours?"

_A little defensive, is he? Let's see who stands where. _"Is she still... you know..." Beckett suggested a shape with his hands.

Jack laughed, Will turned purple, and Barbossa decided to take it and run with it. He was in a foul mood - his conscience was bothering him almost as much as his gut-wound had been, and he needed to take it out on someone. "Oh, she's beautiful," he began. "Missie's not seventeen anymore, mind, and she's had a child, but you could hardly tell." Will managed to keep his temper under control, so Barbossa dug around a little and easily produced some more vulgar things to say. "It's nice, actually – you don't feel so much like she'd break with the first bit of…mm… _rough handling._" He didn't even need to use dirty gestures; a slight widening of the eyes was leer enough to get the message across.

Before Beckett could even answer, Will lurched to his feet. "That's it," he growled. "I will _not _sit here and listen to you-"

"Leave it be, Will," Jack interrupted, sounding a little bored. "'E's just trying to get a rise out of you so he has an excuse to belt you one in the mouth."

It would be an understatement to call Barbossa's look _dirty_. "You've got no intention of makin this trip at all easy on me, do you," he said at last.

"You bet your life I don't." Jack looked extremely proud of himself and continued, without taking his eyes from Barbossa's: "Besides, Will, he…ahem… not to use the word _incapable _but... What exactly do you think could have happened? You saw that bullet hole – he hasn't been out of his bed in six months."

Barbossa didn't miss a beat. "Aye. Fortunately I had the missie in there for company – twould have been quite borin otherwise."

Angry or not Jack had to laugh at that. Will made a dive for Barbossa, and managed to inflict a bloody nose in the brief scuffle before the pirate's years of experience fighting dirty won out. He got Will bent over the side of the boat, dunked his head, and held him there until Jack started to complain about the way it was stirring up the water. Barbossa finally relented and let go – it was fun but not worth endangering the boat for.

Will was calmer but a little sluggish when he made it back up onto his seat. "All right, don't do that," he growled. "It's exhausting."

The choppy little waves had already died down, so Barbossa felt all right snapping "Oh shut up," pouncing, and dunking him again.

This time both Jack and Lord Beckett pulled him off, and Jack took the opportunity to throw him down none too gently and plop down on top of him. "Don't- dip- me!" Will gasped, eyes a little more glazed. "That water… it saps us. Really. I think I bloody inhaled some… I need a nap." He slumped sideways against Lord Beckett and fell promptly asleep.

Barbossa looked up. "Jack, get off me."

"No! Promise you won't dunk me."

"Only if ye'll promise the same."

Jack nodded and let him up. They locked eyes for a split second and then, without a word of warning, they both grabbed Beckett and held him underwater until he was even woozier and more compliant than Will.

"Just like chloroform," Jack said with satisfaction. "Only better, eh?" They lay the snoring bodies out side by side on the floor and took the whole seats for themselves.

Barbossa took the oars and looked skywards. "So… you want to talk now?"

* * *

TBC.

Re: Lord Beckett's creepiness. He strikes me as the type who has elaborate, gory fantasies about all the violent and/or badass things he thinks he _could _do… and yet somehow never manages to do any of them. He's both a nerd and a creep. Although I do feel bad for him – he doesn't seem to have much to look forward to in my story.

What do you think so far? Talk to me!


	29. Then: Lord Beckett wakes up

A/N: Yes, I just updated yesterday too. Make sure you didn't miss that one; it was funny.

Pre-Accord. Takes place just after the end of DMC.

**Lord Beckett wakes up.**

* * *

Beckett opened his eyes and held his breath. It was pitch dark in his room and so silent he could hear his heart in his ears, but yet he somehow knew...

"I find myself in something of a quanrdy, Mercer," he said calmly.

A soft rustle from off to his left. "Having trouble sleeping, sir?" Mercer was equally unruffled - despite having been caught skulking around his superior's bedroom in the middle of the night.

"I'm afraid it's more serious than that." Beckett rolled onto his side and slowly brought an arm up to cover his throat - just in case. "On the one hand I could not ask for a better lieutenant than you, but on the other hand, I get the distinct impression that you're plotting to kill me."

Mercer slid his dagger back into its sheath loud enough for Beckett to hear, and Beckett had to smile. _Heartless assassin or not, the man has style. _"Now where on earth would you get that idea, sir?" he sounded politely astonished.

"Lucky guess," Beckett said dryly. "The thing is, Mercer, you've forgotten something. You've forgotten that I am as useful to you as you are to me. You may have a talent for _spilling _blood, but you were not _born _to blood and everybody knows it." There was silence - Mercer either had no answer or was approaching the bed. Beckett swallowed. "The fact that your mother was a _whore,_" he reminded patiently, "Is a crippling social handicap that I can only help you to overcome if I am _alive_."

More silence. Beckett didn't even hear the man exhale - but he did feel the breath on his face. He pulled back in panic and slammed his head into the wall behind him.

Mercer giggled.

"Consider this, too," Beckett said with a little more confidence. "Your need of me is the very thing that keeps you safe. Think about it - where else am I going to find a man as ruthless and dangerous as you who's _not _going to kill me the minute he thinks he could take my place? See? We are partners, Mercer. We suit one another perfectly, and just because we're on the verge of success is no reason we should start killing one another."

After a long pause, Mercer answered - from all the way across the room. "My thoughts exactly," he said smoothly. "Sleep well, sir."

Beckett heard the door swing open and shut. He was still not a hundred percent certain that Mercer was gone.

* * *

The next morning, leaving the heart safe on dry land, they put to sea. It was surprisingly difficult to find Davy Jones - after all, one couldn't simply post him a letter or walk to his house, could one? - but after a week of spreading information around all the wrong places, they were hailed by a ship that from a distance looked merely green...

Beckett clasped his hands behind his back so he wouldn't fidget. "You're in charge of security, Mercer," he murmured.

"Security, Lord Beckett?"

"If he kills me, I shall be... most displeased."

"Well, I should think so," Mercer agreed. "But don't worry, sir - I'm feeling quite myself today."

When the ship came close enough for Beckett to see what it was really made of, he found himself unable to resist flipping open his spyglass for a better look.

The next thing he knew, monsters had appeared out of thin air onto his ship, surrounding him and holding various members of his crew at weaponpoint.

Fortuantely his scream caught in his throat, and he was silent.

Mercer was also silent, arching his brow at the creature with the face of a hammerhead shark who stood growling a mere six inches from his nose. "Afternoon, friend," he said at last.

The leader of the monsters - Davy Jones, it had to be - turned in Mercer's direction. "Lord Beckett?" it asked over the flopping sounds of the octopus that seemed to be sharing space with its head.

"N-no - that's me." Beckett forced himself to speak up. If he wanted to take control of this situation at all, he had to start immediately.

"Ach." The creature turned to him. "I am Davy Jones. I hear you have something that belongs to me." _Doesn't waste words, does he? _"I'll make you a trade. What do you want for it?"

"Captain Jones, it's my understanding that in order to survive, you don't actually require the heart to be in close proximity to you - you require only that it be kept intact. Is that correct?"

"Aye," Jones admitted guardedly. "So what?"

"Excellent. In that case, a trade is not something I am willing to discuss. Instead, we'll come to an arrangement that works as follows: you will do what I say, and I will keep your heart safe for you. How does that sound?"

He saw a slight shifting in Mercer's posture that suggested the assassin was gearing up for something. Beckett sincerely hoped the negotiations went smoothly enough that he never had to find out what.

Jones took a step towards him and leaned in so close that Beckett could feel the brush of tentacles across his collar. He resisted the urge to look down at them, and kept his eyes locked on Jones's. "_Did you just tell me no?_"

"I did." Beckett finally caved and took a step back - the fishy smell was impacting his ability to think clearly.

"You would cross me?" Jones continued in the same whisper of disbelief. "You would stand in my way?"

Mercer spoke up unexpectedly. "Y'ought to ask him the same question, sir," he suggested with his usual calm.

"Indeed." Beckett graced him with a cold smile before turning back to Jones. "Feel free to underestimate me," he invited. "You'll do so at your own peril. I've given you my terms, and now I-"

"How long do you think I've sailed that ship?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea. But as I was saying-"

"Long enough to know I don't even need to bother learning your name," Jones spat. "There've been a dozen of you, just like you, and do you know what I did to them?" he paused for effect.

"Now that's a lie if I've ever heard one!" Mercer sounded almost jolly. "He's got to be the first who's dared hold your little pretty away from you - otherwise your knickers wouldn't be in such a bunch about it, would they."

_No doubt correct, but still, such a vulgar turn of phrase,_ Beckett complained to himself._ He'll have to learn to stop that._ "In any case," he said aloud, "I have the heart now, and that's really all you need to know, isn't it? I'm afraid you have no choice but to do as I say."

"I will take you aboard the _Dutchman_," Jones promised softly, "And break you in ways you've never dreamed of."

"Yes of course. I'm sure you will." Beckett was ever the diplomat. "But until that time, you understand that you've got to do what I tell you?"

The deformed face made it difficult to say for sure, but Beckett thought the creature looked almost amused. "Until that time."

* * *

TBC.

Tee hee. Just a little bad blood there, yep. The more I write Beckett, the more I like him. He is such a creep! I wonder what Elizabeth is going to say to him... if she's not too busy fawning over dear William, that is.


	30. Now: A crew is hired

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Barbie and Jack would not stop behaving like an old married couple long enough to have a violent argument like proper pirates should. It's their fault.

* * *

"Look, Mother - a boat!" Willie dragged her to the _Pearl's _railing and pointed. "Mother, can I go meet him? Captain Sparrow's with him too, can I go, please?"

Elizabeth didn't answer - the disappointment of seeing only two people in the boat instead of three took her breath away.

Willie took her lack of _no _as a yes, and sat down right away to take off his shoes. He chucked a rope over the side and was gone before she could think to stop him.

It was nice to see Jack again, but all Willie really cared about just then was finding out whether Captain Barbossa was all right. He started calling for him as soon as he thought he was in shouting distance; a few minutes later, when Barbossa could _actually _hear him, he got an answer: "_SHUT YOUR HOLE, BOY, OR I'LL SHUT IT FOR YOU_!"

The captain was laughing with the joy of being able to bellow properly again. "_HOW'S MY SHIP_?"

"FINE," Willie shouted back as best he could. He paddled frantically and recounted with what breath he had left over, "I did everything just as you said. Mother's there waiting for you." He finally reached the boat and grabbed at it and tried without any success at all to climb aboard. "I don't know how we're going to get home but I'm sure you'll think of something..."

The kid's struggling was cute but only in moderation. "Need a hand?" Barbossa reached down.

Willie put his hand in the captain's, and then squealed with pain when his fingers were squeezed almost hard enough to break them. "All right all right I forgot _OW _I'm sorry I forgot!" As soon as he was released he got a proper grip, hand to wrist, and then Barbossa hauled him aboard.

"There, that's the way. Well. Must admit it's good t'be seein you again."

"You're all right...?"

Barbossa rolled his eyes and whacked himself in the stomach. "See? Good as new. Nothing to see. Quit starin at me. I owe you thanks, boy. You did well."

Willie couldn't restrain himself any longer. He knew Barbossa would be furious at him - especially since he was soaking wet - but still the joy of having not lost the captain was too much emotion to handle sitting still. He threw himself at Barbossa and flung his arms around the pirate's neck and buried his face in his shoulder.

"Eugh! Get it off me! Boy I _told _you not to- ugh." The child might as well have been spawned of the Kraken; he was inexorably clinging and sticky and eventually Barbossa gave up trying to detach him on his own. He looked over to Jack. "Wake him up, Jack, I'm beggin ye. Get this creature off me." He growled in Willie's ear: "If you need to be coddled I've got somebody here much more willin. Let go, you scurvy brat!"

Thinking he was being pawned off on the much-inferior Captain Sparrow, Willie shook his head against Barbossa's collar and didn't budge. The captain sighed and shifted a little to better distribute the boy's weight. "I promise this one be worth lookin at. C'mon," he drawled, "Take a look, and if you're not glad you did... I'll let ye take another shot at me." Only after he was done speaking did Barbossa realize he for some reason had a hand on the boy's back. He let go immediately and bounced his legs to make his lap as uninviting a seat as possible, and Willie finally sat up.

"All right: what?" he demanded with an attitude that Barbossa under most circumstances would have cuffed him for. "What should I lo-" He looked over his shoulder and found himself face-to-face with his dead father. He froze.

"See? Now get off," Barbossa ordered. He took Willie by the hair, peeled him off inch by sticky inch, and held him at arm's length with a gesture for Will to take over.

"Willie? It's me... Willie? Look at me when I'm speaking to you," Will directed gently. He met his son's wide and terrified eyes. "It's all right. I know I've... been gone. I told you I'd come right home, and... I know it's been a while and... I'm very sorry you were alone. Yes- _it's me. _It's me, Willie - that's all you need to know, isn't it?" He might have intended to say more, but Willie launched himself forward into a hug, almost hard enough to capsize the boat.

The father/son reunion grew very teary on both sides. Jack and Barbossa made faces at one another. "Little too warm an' fuzzy here for my liking," Barbossa muttered. He nudged Lord Beckett with his foot. "Think we should wake him to even things up?"

Jack scooped up another handful of water and forced it into Beckett's unresisting mouth. "Nah - I think I like him better this way." He shot his partner a Look. "Much as I might like you..."

"Jaa-aack..." It was a warning.

Jack held up his hands in surrender. "All right, you're right. We'll talk later."

* * *

They reached the _Pearl, _and the reunion with Elizabeth was even worse. Jack, Barbossa, Lord Beckett and even Willie found the kissing and sobbing too much to watch, so they all dispersed. Willie was put in charge of Beckett, in the double capacity of guard and tourguide, and scampered off to show him around the ship.

This left Jack and Barbossa alone. Barbossa got a fistful of Jack's hair and dragged him into the cabin. "_Now _can we discuss it?" Jack didn't say anything. "This may be the only time I'll ever invite ye to speak your mind," Barbossa warned. "The opportune moment, as it were. Don't waste it." He turned to rummage around on the table for something.

Jack didn't miss the significance of a very careful and canny pirate showing his back. "See, that's what I'm talking about," he said, voice low and unusually serious. "We trust each other. We're supposed to be partners. Flesh and blood, mate. Well, blood at least," he amended. "And by the way don't think I've forgotten about the blood you owe me."

"As I recall, I promised ye a trans-in-fusion... whatever it's called... when you got yourself hurt, and not a moment before. I don't owe you no blood til then." The conversation would be much easier, he thought, if they continued to take these little detours. "Anyhow, did it perchance escape your notice that I died, too - and all because _you _drank my potion?"

"Well I didn't feel good," Jack declared primly, but wasn't able to take his eyes off the floor.

Barbossa was still facing the wall. "You mean to tell me," he said after a moment, "That your killin me and my killin you is different because _you didn't feel good_?"

"No, it's different because I... Oy, look – I got it!"

Barbossa turned to see. Jack was sitting on the bed, head leaned back, balancing a rum bottle on his nose. "Temper, temper," he chided when Barbossa started growling like a beastie. The bottle fell into his lap as he sat up straight. "The difference is that I didn't mean to kill anybody. I'd do anything for you, mate, you have to know that." Jack's frankness had come on so abruptly it _had _to be pretend, and yet... Barbossa found himself unable to feel skeptical. "_I_ just wasn't thinking. I made a mistake. _You _knew exactly what you were doing."

"So the reason we're penalizin me, is because I'm competent and you're an idiot?" Barbossa sneered.

"_Penalizing_ you?" Jack discovered that he could shriek almost as high as Elizabeth. "I haven't even _touched_ you! What more do I have to let slide before you'll be fair to me?"

"Fair?!" Barbossa suddenly felt more outraged than contrite. "_Fair_?" He snatched the bottle from Jack's lap and uncorked it. "We are havin this out right now, Jack Sparrow – or I'm takin back that apology."

"You betrayed me first," Jack began while Barbossa was busy drinking. "Let's not forget that, eh?"

Barbossa conceeded that with a dip of his head. "Aye, but next time we met I had ye at me mercy - _me mercy, _Jack, and you know how that usually turns out for people - and I went and named ye captain of the very same ship you'd lost. So if that don't count as amends-"

"No, it _don't _count as amends," Jack interrupted. "You don't get credit for giving me back something that was mine to begin with!"

"Yes you were quite clear on that." Barbossa tugged his collar aside to show the bullet scar. "Apparently we differ on how a mutiny amongst friends is supposed to work. I think my way was a little nicer."

Jack winced. "Look, I'm sorry about the whole shooting-you thing, I told you. It was in the heat of the moment."

Barbossa waved the incident away. "S'history. I'm just sayin, I've been no unfairer to you than you to me. Come on, Jack, I've said I'm sorry," he wheedled, thinking he might feel better if Jack would just agree that it was all right. Jack didn't say anything, and eventually he managed eye contact anyway. "Well... give it time?"

"I spose I can do that," Jack agreed a long silence later. He stuck out his hand and proposed, "If I start feeling vindictive I'll let you know. Til then…?" he couldn't quite manage to say _friends _or _forgiven _or _we're all right_, but he gestured back and forth between them.

Barbossa figured that a wordless "you and me" sign was the best he would get, and shook on it.

"There," Jack said brightly. "Now that that's all sorted out, what say he handle the more pressing problem of _how the bloody hell you think we're going to sail home without a crew_!"

Barbossa shrugged. "One thing there's no shortage of at World's End is men who'll beg to sign on with us. Let's go out in the sun - it's gettin a little gloomy out here for my taste - and start enchanting things left and right, and just throw 'em all overboard and see who wakes up."

They went outside to share their plan with the others. It was Willie who broke the bad news. "I don't really think it's a good idea to let any more people on board," he said. "Commodore Norrington thought it wasn't right to loot the ship of your treasure, but he did say you'd have no use for the food..."

Will thought it out pretty quickly. "Then we have to leave _now_. With nothing to eat we'll never make it back to any kind of land. But perhaps the _Pearl _is fast enough... we could catch Norrington before we all die of starvation."

Barbossa snorted. "You want to try sailin this ship with just the four of us?"

"Five," Willie put in loudly. Everyone stopped to look at him.

"Congratulations, Will," Barbossa said. "Looks like I won't be pickin on you so much anymore - the irrelevant chatter seems to be comin from someplace else now."

"Actually," Will admitted sheepishly, "I was going to say _five, _too, but he beat me to it."

Barbossa rolled his eyes and Willie beamed up at him.

"Ahem." Jack looked suspiciously like he had the beginnings of an idea floating around in his head. "You know we can't actually catch up to them. And you know we can't actually handle the _Pearl _by ourselves. Therefore we need some more people."

"Well, unless you know of some people who can live without food," Will said, "they'll just starve to death along with the rest of us."

"People who don't eat..." Jack pretended to consider it. "Sorry, can't help you. But what about people who eat _people_?"

* * *

So they left World's End with a brand new crew of dead cannibals, and the balance of power immediately began shifting in Jack's direction. For one thing, there was the question of health. Jack was doing fine, getting three square (hand-shaped?) meals a day, while Barbossa drew the line at eating human flesh. "Thanks but I'll be stickin with the hell I've got used to," he insisted. "Starvin won't bother me none. I'm good at it." He and Will didn't eat - anything left on the ship that was nonhuman and even remotely edible, except rum, went to Elizabeth and Willie. Beckett didn't eat for twelve hours... at which point he gave up on the moral high road and sat down to dine with the crew.

Another thing that helped cement Jack's position as leader was that he was the only one who could talk to the Pelegostos - who, now that he had brought them back from the dead, were more convinced than ever that he was a god. He taught them how to sail a ship (Will objected to this, horrified at the idea of what could happen if any of these people ever got loose in the rest of the Caribbean), sang and danced with them, and helped preside over disputes about who was for dinner. He even tried to teach them English, but they considered it the language of the gods and the only phrase they seemed interested in learning was the official holy designation used to single out the evening's sacrifice: "Sorry, mate, you're it!"

So all in all, Jack took care of most of the running of the ship. It left Barbossa little to do but prowl and be hungry.

On the third day he caught sight of Will standing alone out on deck. It was the first time Barbossa had seen him without his family draped around his neck, so he went over for a quick word. "How feel ye, Turner?"

"How do you think?" Will laughed a little unsteadily. "But I'm not suggesting we put me on rations with the women and children, if that's what you're asking." He laughed more - and loopier. "No wonder I'm hungry - I haven't had a bite since I was killed... what's that, going on a year and a half now?"

"You're lookin at the man holds the world record: ten years, five months, and eight days." Barbossa shook his head and looked a little ill. "And d'you know what I got for a first meal after the fast?" Will suspected he didn't want to hear, but before he could say so, Barbossa told him. "Cold, raw fish guts. When me and Davy talked terms I made him promise to feed me..."

"But failed to specify what would be on the menu," Will finished for him.

"Aye. I rode the whole way home from World's End thinkin I was probably better off dead."

Will's stomach spasmed but there was nothing in it to come up. "Speaking of fish," he said when his gag reflex was under control again, "We're far enough from World's End that we should be able to find some, right? Ones that aren't spiny and poisonous? Soon?"

"Hope so. Otherwise you and me'll be sittin down to some very-"

"_No,_" Will said. "I would rather die than become a cannibal."

Barbossa turned to him slowly. He was smiling but Will couldn't remember the last time he had sounded this threatening. "Ye'll eat what I tell ye to eat."

"What's it to you?" Will figured it out pretty quickly. "Oh... it's that if I starve to death, Elizabeth will make you turn around and rescue me all over again, isn't it? She's got you pretty good, mate," he said almost apologetically. "You'd do it."

Barbossa wouldn't let him have the last word. "Aye. But this time I'd make her _persuade _me... and I don't think she'd mind."

Will didn't have much of a comeback, but it was all right because something large and dark leaped out of the water directly in their line of vision. "Look!" Will pointed. "Is that a... a dolphin? Or what?" Were dolphins edible? Well today they would be, that was for s-

Barbossa snapped open his spyglass for a better look, and then several things happened at once:

He held it up to his face.

Will tackled him to the deck.

The bow of the _Flying Dutchman _broke the water.

* * *

Barbossa scrambled to his feet, furious. _A few days of being hungry and suddenly you can't think?_ he snarled to himself. _Have we got ourselves a death wish, Hector? No? Then wise up and pay attention!_

He felt to make sure all his weapons were in place. "Good save, Turner."

"Psh. We had another four seconds at least." Will waved cheerily at Davy's yowling monsters as the ships crossed paths. "How are we going to handle this, Captain?"

Barbossa had never seen him so happy at the prospect of a bloody battle. "Have you lost your head, boy?"

"Elizabeth says the Kraken's on its deathbed," Will explained, "so it's just us versus the _Dutchman_, and I still owe Davy Jones a knife to the heart. I've waited so long for another chance to take care of it... so... Orders?"

"Davy doesn't look much like he feels like talkin, does he?" Barbossa frowned. "Very well, a fight it is." He gestured for Will to follow, then turned his back on the railing and shoved through the panicky chattering cannibals to find Jack.

* * *

It only took Jack half a minute to calm the crew's terror and get them into a killing frenzy. "What did you tell them?" Will asked loudly over the sounds of a war chant.

Jack grinned. "Just that these things are demons - enemies of yours truly the god. I informed them that the demons are both very evil, and very delicious."

"Jack, that's disgusting." Elizabeth had appeared on deck in time to hear. "You can't just go around-"

"Fighting first." Will shoved a gun in her hands. "Moral lecture later."

"Mmm, he's learning," Barbossa chuckled.

"Now all he has to do is replace the _later _with _never_," Jack suggested, "And we're all set!" He sat down at the bidding of one of his attendants to have his face painted. Instead of sets of eyeballs this time, he was hastily decorated with fierce red streaks that resembled stylized fangs and whiskers and large angry eyebrows. "I like it," he said into a mirror. "Hey, Barbossa - your turn."

Barbossa didn't take his eyes from the _Dutchman. _"If I wouldn't live in makeup, what on earth makes you think I'll die in it? Sides, somebody has to watch and figure out what in hell Davy thinks he's doing."

"I think he means to board. Sit." Jack pushed him down onto a barrel and gestured for the Pelegostos to start painting. "He'll want to do us by hand, mate, and I think we should let him try. Easier than teaching the crew to fire cannons, eh? Soon as we're ready we'll have you take a peek through your little spyglass and half a bottle says he'll send his men straight over, eh?" He began to explain the plan to his warriors.

* * *

Meanwhile, Elizabeth had been given the task of locking away their last-resort bargaining chip. "Don't leave anything dangerous in Beckett's cell," Will had warned her, "Because he's promised to kill himself rather than play leverage for us. Don't let him."

So Elizabeth decided to tie him up. Unfortunately, this would take a few minutes, and no doubt he would try and use the time to talk his way out of it. Perhaps she could stave it off. "Nothing you can say will change my mind, so please don't bother," she said before he'd even said hello. "Turn a little...yes, thanks."

"I have far too much respect for you to think I could change your mind through words alone," he assured her smoothly. "And I also appreciate that the urgency of the situation leaves little time for me to attempt... ahem... _alternate methods _of securing your favor."

She refused to look up from her knot. "Oh, very funny. Lord Beckett, you know I-"

"_Cutler, _I thought we said." He reminded himself to keep it friendly, and to allow her to distance herself as little as possible.

She sighed. "Cutler. You know I'm not willing to undermine their plans regardless of what sorts of _persuasion _you might think up."

"Mmm. Pity," he murmured. "Well, what if I don't ask you to undermine their plans - only to help me with plans of my own? Too tight," he added irritably. "Come, I could help you in return."

"Help me how? Sit- no, here... like that."

"My knowledge of the situation is imperfect," he admitted. "But from what I understand, pressure is being exerted on our dear friend James Norrington that is in turn creating pressure on _your _dear friends the pirates... pressure I could conceivably relieve... providing, of course, that I survi- Excuse _you_!"

"Sorry, almost done. Listen... I can't interfere with handing you over. I won't. Arch for me... right."

Although flattered that Elizabeth considered him dangerous enough to require a hogtie, Beckett knew it was time to swallow his pride and beg. _She's a mother now, she must have gone soft at least a little… _He waited til he was face down on the ground so that he would seem as pathetic as possible. "Then at least tell me how to handle him. I know you know something. I... please, Elizabeth – I do need help."

It didn't even cross Elizabeth's mind that the tremor in his voice might be deliberate. She looked down and felt intensely sorry for him, and as she locked the cell door behind her she paused a moment just outside the bars. "All right, listen," she said quickly, before she could change her mind. "I'll tell you what I know. There are some things you must _never _do or mention, and some ways you can..."

* * *

Jack gave his worshippers one last gibbering speech of encouragement, and then gestured for Barbossa to call the enemy over.

Fish-people poured onto the deck, and were met by savage cannibals wielding borrowed pirates' weapons. Blood and guts and chaos ensued, with Jack in the thick of it, determined to prove himself worth of god-status once and for all. The Pelegostos rallied around him, making their war-cries loudly enough to drown out most of the fishmen's bellowing.

Elizabeth fought her way over to Willie. "Ex_cuse_ you!" she shouted over the noise, then flinched. _Did I just steal a mannerism from Lord Beckett?_ "Civilized people do _not _shout likilikiliki!"

"Try it, Mother!" Willie got his blade into a creature and then ducked to let Elizabeth finish it off. "It's great fun!"

Someone was coming in from the side and Elizabeth jumped to get between him and her son. She parried, blade in both hands, and felt something give in her wrist. The sudden flash of pain - real pain, a real live injury like she hadn't had in years - terrified her. "This is not a game!" she almost screamed it. "Get out of here at once, Willie - get below!"

"No! I'm helping!" He dove at a creature who unfortunately turned out to be quite prickly, and tripped its feet up to bring it to the ground.

"Your father's going to be furious if he sees!" She concentrated on her own enemy while Willie climbed all over his.

"Can't be worse than Captain Barbossa, can he? I'm staying!"

"Willie, _go_!"

"I will not!"

Elizabeth finished what she was doing and came to Willie's aid, dropping to one knee on top of the creature's chest. With one of her hands hurt - _but not broken, please don't let it be broken - _she couldn't really work a sword, so she drew her knife and put it through the fishman's eye. She gave Willie a deathly Look while he untangled himself from the twitching corpse. "Young gentlemen obey their parents without question," she reminded him coldly. "But if you're not going to be behaving like a young gentleman..." _Sorry, Will - some promises just can't be kept forever_! "... Rest assured, you will be obeying me anyway." She jerked the neck of her shirt down her arm and turned to show him her branded shoulder.

Frozen by the discovery that his mother was a pirate, Willie still didn't move. Elizabeth snarled, "Now get below!" one more time, and this time he went.

She was extremely relieved to have got him out of harm's way - the fighting was so fierce that she didn't even have time to splint her hand before throwing herself back into it.

* * *

TBC.

Yeah, sorry this chappie took so long. I was working on it together with the next one... which is also basically ready. I'll post it probably Saturday night or Sunday morning.

Let me know what you think.


	31. Now: Davy delivers a line

The Pelegostos were certainly fearless and were doing the best they could, but it eventually seemed that they were not quite a match for the crew of the _Flying Dutchman _in hand-to-hand combat. Jack and Barbossa realized they had to concoct a plan on the fly.

"Now before you say no, just hear me out," Jack begged. It was hard to simultaneously fight and gesture, but he found that handling his sword with one hand, combined with a lot of ducking and dodging, freed him up enough to wave and point without getting killed.

Barbossa heard him out, found the idea hilarious if a little silly, and gave his permission.

They sent half the Pelegostos below deck to run out the sweeps and start rowing. The remaining ones had an even tougher time fighting than before, but with Jack in their midst screaming encouragement, and their weapons becoming more familiar with every shot and slash, they were still almost holding their own.

And despite the higher body count, the plan seemed worth it – with the wind calm and the oars out, they opened distance between the _Pearl_ and the abandoned _Dutchman _remarkably fast. Due to the frenzy of battle it took Davy a little while to realize that they were pulling away, and by the time he ran to the railing snorting curse words, his ship was already a ten-minute swim behind them.

In effect, he and all his crew were being kidnapped. How _dare _these pirates! He hated to give them their own way, but he couldn't very well just leave his ship there while the _Pearl_ carried him away, could he? Davy shouted for half his men to stop the fighting and dive over the side to go fetch the _Dutchman _and bring her in pursuit.

So half the fish-people went overboard of their own volition. This improved the odds for the Pelegostos immensely, but Jack still didn't like how many of his children were being hacked or bitten up by the remaining fishmen. He also didn't like that Davy himself had remained to keep fighting. He thought fast for another way to get rid of him…

_C'mon Jack think, what does he want, give him something he wants, throw him a bone… throw him a Beckett. _Aha.

Jack ran all the way downstairs to the brig before realizing that Elizabeth still had the keys. And Jack was no fool: his ship did _not _use half-pin-barrel hinges.

Fortunately, though, he loved the _Pearl_enough to have learned every inch of her, including how to pick all her locks. He had Beckett out in ten seconds – still tied up, though – and started to haul him towards the stairs.

Beckett was not too happy about this, not the least because he could hear a raging battle going on upstairs and did not like to be dragged near it when he was completely helpless. Besides, it hurt. "Ow! Sparrow, all right, enough, let me out…I can _help _you… just listen… _oomf _for Heaven's sake untie me, there's no point to th- _OW!_"

Jack had bumped him up the first stair. "Sorry," he said, not paying much attention at all to his cargo's well-being. "One, two, _three_!"

"OW!"

"Almost there."

Beckett twisted around to see. "No we're not – we have a whole staircase to go! _AHH_, be sensible – cut me loose and I can walk- _OW stop it_! Jack Sparrow, so help me-!"

But Jack was not listening. He bumped Beckett all the way up the stairs and dragged him towards the railing. "Eh! Fishface!" He was out of breath from the climb, but his voice still carried well enough to get Davy's attention. "Look what I got! Remember him?" Davy squinted at them, not recognizing the prisoner immediately, so Jack prompted, "He's the one who held your precious little thumpything hostage – and then ordered you around with it. Oho!" He grinned as Davy's face twisted up. "Now you remember! Bet you could do with a spot of revenge, eh? Watch this!" He bent and gathered the squirming bundle of Beckett into a bear hug, and hauled him up into the air. It was an enormous feat of strength to dump him over the side, but he managed. "Whoops," he called, looking extremely proud of himself. "Davy, you'd best go fish him out fast, mate." He peeked over the side. "Unless of course you fancy taking your revenge on a dead man... but to each his own if that's your thing, I suppose..."

Davy knew he didn't really have time to think it over. Beckett was tied up beyond any hope of swimming, so if he thought he might want any satisfaction at all, this was his only chance. He went for the railing. "I'm after you, Sparrow," he called to him. "We'll pick him up and come straight back here. You're as dead as he is!" It occurred to Davy that he could go alone to fetch Beckett and leave his crew to keep fighting, but on the other hand he knew that his crew was not exactly a troop of brain s(t)urgeons, and they might not do so well without his guidance. He looked around for help making his split-second decision. The first thing he saw was one of his crew members gnawing on the leg of a Pelegosto warrior… who was gnawing on _his _leg in return, and it seemed that despite having teeth about two inches shorter, the cannibal was actually winning.

Bad omen. It seemed the crew of the _Flying Dutchman _should not be allowed to perform difficult missions without its leader, so Davy hollered for his men to follow him when he jumped overboard.

The deck of the _Pearl_was suddenly very quiet. "There," Jack said. "Easy, eh?" He led the Pelegostos in a victory dance.

* * *

When he realized where exactly Sparrow was taking him, Beckett's throat closed up too much to keep arguing. He struggled for all he was worth but made absolutely no headway against Elizabeth's knots. When he was lifted in the air and knew for certain that he was about to be dropped without even a fighting chance, dropped where all the genius in the world couldn't save him from a terrifying and painful death, he started to faint.

The world was a buzz in his ears and a grey-blue blur in front of him. He didn't notice the trip down, but he definitely woke up when he hit the water. It knocked the wind out of him and jarred him so badly that for a moment he forgot to breathe.

When he did breathe, it was water and not air that he sucked in. Beckett convulsed and twisted and accidentally wound up on his back with his head breaking the surface. He was above water for about five seconds. He wasted most of the time coughing and choking, but he did manage to pull in one big breath before he started to sink for real.

His life didn't flash before his eyes. In fact he hardly had time for even one half-formed wry thought about dying for the second time being much worse than the first. He soon couldn't think at all, beyond straining and fighting and screaming _NO NO NO NO _in his head or out loud, it was hard to say which.

Finally he couldn't resist any more, and his body tried to inhale. Then coughed it out and tried again, but it was just water water and water. He was still panicking when things went dark.

He had unpleasant dreams of cold sticky arms dragging at him.

The next thing he knew was gagging and throwing up and salt and a billion aches and pains. Once when he was seventeen he had drunk himself to the edge of death, and this felt very much the same only worse – eyes watering, stomach heaving, body jerking, thought impossible. He couldn't even hear himself crying _Stop it, please, oh please stop_ but he did hear a firm cold voice above him saying, "He's alive, God forgive me. Satisfied?"

_Alive. _He felt someone moving him and it made him spew up even more water. When he finally returned to himself all the way and managed to open up his eyes, he was not at all happy with his situation. He was sitting propped up against a moldy barrel on a filthy ship. There was a chattering crowd of semi-human monster creatures, and Davy Jones was squatting down in front of him, staring at him with a look that did not bode well at all. _Ah yes. Something of a predicament, Cutler. _

"Well, there's both good news and bad," Davy began.

The face was difficult to read, but Beckett could make out a smile in the voice. He coughed weakly and wiped his eyes, stalling so that he would have time to go over some of the things Elizabeth had told him._ He is a bully… much like yourself, Lord Beckett. Handle him as one would handle you. _

"Eventually I will put you to death," Davy told him when it seemed like he was paying attention again. "And the bad news…. is that _that's _the good news."

Beckett put himself in Davy's place for a moment, and immediately knew what the most crushing response from a prisoner would be: "I see," he said calmly, pursing his lips as though fighting off a smile. "And how long have you been simply _itching _to use that line on someone?" He caught a sudden stiffness in the mustache-tentacles and thought he was getting somewhere. "Tell me, was it worth the wait? Or do you think perhaps it sounded rather melodramatic and silly in the end?" He ripped some of the lace from his sleeve and blew his nose into it. _He mustn't see that you're unsure. _

There was a beat of silence before Davy made any answer. "I think we'll let _you _decide if there's anything silly about the fate I've got planned for you," he said sweetly. "We should have some privacy. Why don't you come into my cabin so we can, ah… _heh heh…_ talk." He stood and strode off across the deck.

Beckett got to his feet slowly and made a face, remembering _I don't know how but he can hear you wherever you are. If you're acting, you have to keep it up even when he's gone_. "This is going to be perfectly miserable, isn't it," he complained to the assembled fish-people. "Well, I suppose all one can do is hope he's still sane enough to listen to reason…" He sighed and shook out his hair to dry it a little, rubbed at the worst of his stinging rope burn, and then followed Davy into the cabin.

* * *

Davy was playing. Beckett went up and stood beside the keyboard in Davy's line of vision, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers impatiently. _I would try coming on strong if I were you, _ Elizabeth had suggested._ Put HIM in the position of making a choice because believe me if he offers you one, you won't like it. Take a risk, be confident and get him off-balance. _"Stop that and listen to me – I have an idea," he declared as soon as there was a break in the music. Davy hit a single long, low note and didn't look up. "Those pirates think they can buy you off by simply giving you a fly whose wings to rip," he explained over the organ's ominous purr. "I have to hope you're a little more intelligent than that."

"Before I start to punish you, I will listen to whatever you have to say," Davy assured him. "So go ahead – let's hear what you have in mind, friend." He began to play something soft and almost soothing, pretending not to notice that one of his tentacles had fished a crusty knife out of his beard and was waving it around in time to the music.

Beckett listened for a moment. The song sounded like a lullaby meant for a monster. Which reminded him… "With your Kraken injured – my condolences on that, by the way – you must admit that armed ships… possibly although not necessarily the _Black _ _Pearl__… _do present a real threat to you for a change. Not to mention the fact that your heart is again stored somewhere on land, where you cannot travel… and I'd be willing to bet that rather than risk sharing its location with anyone this time, you've instead left it completely unguarded." The organ squawked a discordant note, and then one tendril of beard slapped another as if to blame it. _Congratulations, Cutler. _His own voice cut cleanly across the buzz of all Elizabeth's advice still rolling around his head. _You're getting to him. _

"The point?"

"The point, _Davy _– may I call you Davy? Because whichever way this goes, you and I are going to be forming something of a close relationship, are we not? – the point is that the way I see it, you could certainly use yourself a trustworthy agent who is an enemy to Jack Sparrow, and comfortable at sea or on land, and most importantly, is completely predictable."

Davy sat up straight, leaving only his hand and claw and arm-tentacle to continue with the song. For the first time he looked his prisoner in the face. "I'd be tempted, had you not called yourself _trustworthy_. I don't deal with liars."

"Trustworthy? Oh, but I am." Beckett felt himself smirking and tried to tone it down – Davy Jones was a prideful creature and it wouldn't do to let him think this had become a contest to see who would get the best of whom. _Alliance__. He has to think: mutual alliance. _"I am in this only for myself. I have no scruples whatsoever, and no agenda beyond doing what's best for me. You know you can count on that permanently and absolutely. This makes me predictable… and for our purposes, don't you think _trustworthy _and _predictable _are the same thing?"

"But how could I know you won't change your mind? One day you might decide that loyalty to me is not what's best for you."

Beckett shrugged. "I live on a set of islands," he reminded. "It would be superlatively stupid for me to make an enemy of the sea, don't you think?" He paused and wondered if it was a mistake to bring up their past, but if Elizabeth was right and Davy wasn't one to doubt himself in hindsight, then he would be likely to think that whatever he had done was the right answer. So Beckett said, "I'll be loyal to you for the same reason you were loyal to me when I had your heart in my possession: I'm completely boxed in and I know it, and I'm practical enough to work with that situation as best I can."

The organ music became a lot richer as Davy leaned forward to let his beard back in on it. "Perhaps you've made a good case," he said eventually, "But I'm really looking forward to making a victim out of you. I expect it'll be a lot more satisfying than making you a partnerdon't you think?"

"In the short term, certainly," Beckett admitted without strain. "But you're not a child. You can demand patience of yourself." He knew the story of the woman and the heart, and he was sure that this would seal the deal. "I know you're angry. You will need to forego the fleeting pleasure you'd get by giving vent to your feelings, and instead consider what's best for yourself in the long run." In case Davy was somehow missing the subtext he added (with a mocking smile that he couldn't quite get rid of) "Isn't that supposed to be something you're good at?"

Davy's eyes flashed to the locket.

* * *

TBC.

Believe it or not, I think I have figured out how this story is going to end. Until now it's been a mystery to me. Not everybody gets a happy ending… although many do.

So I realize the last two chapters were more chaotic-action-craziness-ish than the story has been so far. What do you guys think of that kind of thing? Feedback is good. Lack of feedback will be punished by cannonade and cutlass and all manner of remorseless pieces of metal (Woohoo Beckett!)

Lurkers: ye be warned!


	32. Then: Jack keeps an appointment

This is a somewhat silly scene that wouldn't leave me alone until I finally wrote it out. The only way it really foreshadows what's to come is that it's a tale of a time when everybody is doing great... except for Norrington, who is miserable. Why do I always find it necessary to torture this man? Oh well, I guess he deserves it. And I'm not _too _mean - I did at least give him a wife.

**Post-accord, year one. Jack keeps an appointment.**

* * *

She pounded on the door. "Jack? It's Charlotte."

"Charlotte who?" challenged Jack's voice.

She rolled her eyes. "How many Charlottes are you supposed to meet here tonight? Charlotte Norrington. Charlotte who did _not _come all the way to Tortuga only to be turned away because Jack Sparrow can't remember plans he made three measly weeks ago!"

"Oh... _that_ Charlotte." Unlike their last meeting, where he'd tried to let Charlotte in while he was busy with a girl, this time when Jack opened the door and he was clothed and alone. "How's Elizabeth?"

"Alive. And the doctor says she's likely to stay that way."

"Wonderful!" Jack stepped back out of the doorway and gestured towards the bed. If she hadn't come to tell him that Elizabeth was dead, then flirting was certainly fair game. "Make yourself at home, love. As you can see I rented a room that's actually rather quite big for one person..."

She laughed. "Nice try, Captain Sparrow, but my husband's downstairs." She could see that Jack didn't believe her. That was probably because after narrowly escaping murder at the hands of pirates last time (he had tried to singlehandedly arrest one), Norrington had sworn up and down that he would never come to Tortuga again. "Honestly - he is. I dressed him in rags and took his wig away so he fits in better this time."

Jack grinned at that, before getting down to business. "So Elizabeth's pulled through for good?"

"We think so. She finally woke up. And the baby's doing wonderful. The only thing is..."

"Is what?"

"It's, it's nothing, not really, It's just, she's... notdoingverywell," Charlotte blurted out at last. "She can't or won't get of bed. She's lost her figure and she cries all the time and Will is so good to her but she only cries harder. It's awful, Jack, really sad and we don't know what to do."

Jack didn't seem particularly bothered. "Lizzie'll snap out of it," he said with confidence. "And this I _will _tell Barbossa about."

Her jaw dropped. "You mean you didn't tell him about last time?"

"How would _you _like to be the one who explains to Barbossa that his pet's in trouble, probably bleeding to death and he can't go see her? Hmm? Didn't think so." Jack shrugged. "I just told him the baby was here and it was a boy. Much safer to share good news than bad. No matter, anyway - Lizzie's fine now, it all worked out."

He slung his arm around Charlotte's shoulders as though to reassure her but she shook it off furiously. "There will be no more intercepting of messages, Jack," she declared. "From now on I'm going to talk to Barbossa directly - and I don't care what James says about it."

* * *

But by the time they got downstairs, Norrington was too busy with his own problems to care that his wife was demanding permission to consort with more pirates. He was trapped and whimpering for help - cradled on the lap of a gigantic male sailor who was hugging him and calling him Rose. 

Rose herself - the _real _Rose - was sitting in a heap on the floor nursing a bloody lip.

"Oh my." Jack took in the situation and tried not to laugh. "Right, Charlotte, I'll handle this. Er... excuse me... hey, mate, listen, this is my friend you've got-"

He ducked a punch, and good thing - the man's fist was about the size of Jack's head. "Not to touch her!" the sailor shouted. "How many men I must to whack until somebody, he realize that this woman Rose, I love her and she love me and nobody will to take this from us!" He squeezed Norrington so hard that Jack could hear his back crack.

"Help?" Norrington squeaked.

Rose put in her two cents. "That fella's a bit drunk. And 'e don't speak a whole lotta English," she explained from the floor. "'E also don't see so good. I think 'e's got that eyepatch on the wrong eye."

"Ah." Jack thought something up fast. "Well, see, it looks like Rose left her knickers on the floor over there," he explained loudly and slowly. "I'm going to take her to go get them, and then bring her right back."

"Not Rose to take!"

"No, no, of course not Rose to take," Jack agreed hastily. "Rose to _borrow _- just borrow, mate, one moment... easy does it..." He tried to extricate Norrington from the meaty embrace.

But it soon became clear that that just wouldn't work, so Jack changed tactics - he kicked through one of the rungs on the bar stool. The stool broke under all the weight, and everyone crashed to the ground. Jack pulled Norrington free in the chaos, shoved the real Rose into her date's flailing arms, and skedaddled.

He could hear bottles breaking behind him as a big brawl started up.

Jack, Charlotte, and Norrington made it outside, slammed the door of the tavern shut behind them, and leaned against it, panting. "Whew," said Charlotte and Jack at the same time. They laughed together and then Jack thanked her for bringing him news.

Norrington sighed and put away any lingering intentions of trying to grab Sparrow while he was off-guard. The concern in the pirate's voice was genuine - Elizabeth mattered to him - and he had risked this meeting solely to check up on how she was doing. Norrington couldn't pounce on anybody, even Jack Sparrow, under those conditions. Besides, there was always the problem of what Charlotte would do about it if he tried to take advantage of tonight ("Too awful to describe, James, but suffice it to say that afterwards I'll have to divorce you for inability to perform your husbandly duties...").

Norrington wiped his three-hundred-pound admirer's slobber off his neck, standing there listening to his wife get chatted up by the man who had ruined his life. He wondered what on earth he had ever done to deserve this. And the night's humiliations weren't over yet - unwilling to be outclassed by a pirate, he looked over at Jack and grit his teeth and got the necessary words out: "Thanks for the rescue just now, Sparrow."

"Don't mention it," Jack said easily. "Although, I suppose if you're _really_ grateful, you could always stop trying to hang me." The reminder that they were in fact enemies had the desired effect - Norrington got even more flustered and uncomfortable, gaping like a fish without managing a single word. Jack winked at him before flouncing away. "Ta."

Charlotte giggled at the look on her husband's face. "Don't tell me," she guessed. "We're never coming here again? And this time... you mean it?"

He banged his head softly against the door behind him and promised himself that this time he really _did _mean it.

* * *

TBC.

I have some bizzare craziness (the execution of a plan only Jack could come up with and only an extremely guilty-feeling Barbossa would ever humor him long enough to approve) planned for the next chapter, which is almost finished...

Problem is, I'll be out of the country for a week and a half starting tonight, and I won't have a computer with me. Somehow I will find some crazy way of updating anyhow. Hopefully Saturday, maybe Sunday.

Leave me some love!


	33. Now: What the pirates saw

A/N: Done without spellcheck. Apologies!

* * *

After the fish-people were gone and the Pelegostos had danced off their leftover adrenaline, they quieted down and it was time to deal with the aftermath of the battle. 

Will looked over Elizabeth's hurt hand first, and concluded that she had probably just sprained her wrist. He tried not to fuss over her too much, wrapped it up tight, and let her go about her business.

Willie was hurt too, but not badly. He was covered in tiny perforations from tackling someone who was half puffer-fish, and although he had done the best he could for himself there were still several irritating spines stuck into his back that he couldn't reach to pull out. His mother was angry enough already about his fighting, his father would _kill _him for getting hurt, and Jack was crazy, so he eventually got up the nerve to come show Captain Barbossa.

Barbossa's first response was to say "Good for you - scars show people you're a fighter," and slap him hard on the back as though to congratulate him.

"_Ahhow - _that's not funny!" Willie squealed. Barbossa got very still and so he added "...sir" in the hopes of avoiding trouble. With a lot of muttering about insolent brats deserving what they get, the captain picked the spines out.

Later on Will noticed the blood dotting his son's shirt, and would have found out right there had not Barbossa stepped in to explain it. "It's nothing," he dismissed. "Nothing you shouldn't recognize, anyway - you've got a set yourself."

"I..." Will's face darkened and he dropped a protective hand on the boy's shoulder. "You said you haven't been beating him."

The poor thing was already quivering with rage, but Barbossa thought it would make it even better if he could bring Turner's _real _soft spot into the mix. "Special occasion," he said smoothly. "Boy had to learn not to play with pistols." He paused for effect. "He shot Elizabeth."

"_What_!" Will forgot about the injury to his son and went off to fuss over Elizabeth all over again.

For Barbossa, teasing Turner was fun but routine. He'd tossed that story off the cuff almost without thinking about it, and the incident hardly made a wave in his ocean.

Willie, on the other hand, had been rasied to consider lying a serious matter, and he was truly touched that the captain had undertaken it on his behalf.

* * *

Next came the problem of food. After running around fighting all day it would be the height of stupidity for Will and Barbossa to continue on with a hunger strike and they knew it. They stood off to the side of the cannibal crowd, watching, because it seemed disrespectful to shut their eyes to the process of choosing and killing a victim. 

Fortunately, when the Pelegostos started chanting "Sorry mate you're it! Sorry mate you're it!" it was a captured fish-person and not an actual human being at the center of the circle.

"We can do this," Will murmured, relieved. "He's more like a shark anyway, hardly a person at all..."

Barbossa nodded, quick as ever to exonerate himself on a technicality. "Aye, exactly. You _are _learning," he chuckled. "Shark it is. Delicious."

But "shark" or not, they both had a hard time keeping the meal down.

* * *

The _Pearl _raced on, full sail because of the need to keep ahead of the _Dutchman. _They were also hoping to overtake Norrington, so that they had a chance to free their original pirate crew (the cannibals were starting to get on even Jack's nerves). They had fair weather for a bit, and then the sky grew dark. 

Jack was thrilled. "Bad weather is our friend," he reminded Barbossa, "In the sense that Norrington's afraid of it, and the enemy of our enemy... or in this case, so long as we count Norrington as our enemy, then the thing of which our enemy is afraid... which in this case would be the bad weather... would be our friend." He had said it all in one breath.

"And this be goin... where?"

Jack grinned and put an arm around his shoulders. "You're going to love this, mate." Counting it as a continued punishment for the hanging, Barbossa didn't shake him off. "While Norrington's got everybody busy - and he _will _call all hands on deck and order everybody about in a frenzy, take me word for it - while he's got them all panicking, we wait til dark and if the storm is bad, we sail nearly right up to him and he won't notice. We'll lower boats and we'll row. With me so far?"

"You do realize you could have just said: _we approach_, and I'd have understood it twice better'n all that chatter."

"Right. Anyway, next, once we've approached, I mean once we've got close by using the methods I just mentioned, then we..."

The explanation took almost half an hour, which Barbossa was _sure _was deliberate, but he endured it without interrupting once. He couldn't _wait _until his guilt wore off...

* * *

Pintel and Ragetti were on the floor of Norrington's brig. Despite the filthy puddle of water they were parked in, they were glowing with triumph - with so many prisoners crammed in, the place was standing room only, and yet here they were, owning a spot of floor almost big enough for them both to sit down in. 

"Move," Pintel complained, pushing Ragetti partially off his lap. "You're squashing me."

"Well, there's people here," Ragetti pointed out. "And if you push me I'll knock into them, and then they'll fall down on us and then we'll _really _be squashed."

Pintel tried again. "Come on, move," he whined, "You're takin up all the room and I don't have any."

"I'm sitting _on _you - that means I'm not taking up any room at all," Ragetti argued. "I'm only using the room you used already."

"Well if you're using my room, then maybe that's why I don't have none. So why don't you-

"_BOOM. _A dull thud, and the wall they were leaning against shook. They both froze and looked at each other_. BOOM._ It happened again

"Are you thinkin what I'm thinkin?"

"Yeah, probly," Ragetti admitted unhappily. Then he brightened a little. "Although that don't make it no more likely to be true, if you think about it."

_BOOM- Crack._ The thud again... and then the sound of wood splintering and beginning to give way. Before they could figure out what to do about it, another blow struck and this time actually cracked all the way through. They made out the rusty edge of an ax before it was withdrawn to strike again. Rain from the outside began dripping in.

"I fink that's a person," Pintel breathed. He stood up to put his head close to the crack. "'Ey, you! What do you think you're doing!" he shouted through. "This 'ere's a jail - you don't want to come in here!"

The ax landed again and Pintel nearly lost an eye. He shouted in aggrieved surprise and backed away. Other pirates were beginning to regard the incident with interest.

They only got _really _excited when they heard the intruder answer. "Sorry bout that, mate!"

* * *

Jack had climbed up the side of the ship with an ax in each hand, chopping new hand- and foot-holds to move up with until he reached where they had estimated the brig to be. It was tedious work, hanging on and chopping and chopping with almost no leverage until he got through to the inside, and then another ten minutes before he had hacked a hole big enough to feed half a saw through. 

Once he got the saw in, though, things went a lot faster. He braced both feet against the wet, slippery hull and grasped the saw with both hands. Inside, one of the pirates was doing the same. They got into a rhythm quickly and soon carved themselves a doorway big enough for the prisoners to climb out of. They anchored a rope to the bars of the brig, and climbed on down into the boats Jack had waiting.

The long minutes of working in the rain and spray had made it tough for Jack to see anything clearly, so he didn't notice that the crew had acquired a new member: the young soldier he'd made friends with just before his hanging. It would have warmed his heart... although Gibbs's drunken babbling did almost just as well. "I knew yud come, Capn, I knew it," he slurred, slapping Jack on the back so hard he almost fell out of the boat. "I always said I'll never blieve Jack's gone, not after all I seen him live through... want a sip?"

* * *

The morning after the storm, Norrington felt his abysmal mood beginning to lift just a little. 

He had brought his ship safe through some bad weather, had done his duty and risked his own life, and through his own courage and leadership (and the fact that the weather wasn't really all that bad to begin with), everybody had survived.

He was feeling generous enough to pardon the soldier he had ordered locked up with the pirates all night long. "He's probably had time to think about what side he's _really_ on, don't you think?" he told an aide with a bit of a smirk. "Go on and let him out."

The aide went off to obey, but returned seconds later pale as a ghost. "Commodore, sir, you have to see this... it's... it's awful..."

Norrington froze. "What- what's awful?" he demanded.

"I... I... Savages, sir, they... They're savages..."

"Oh, God..." Norrington immediately realized what a bad idea it had been to lock a soldier up with pirates under sentence of death. Not all pirates were like Jack Sparrow; especially when they had nothing to lose and were facing execution and thirsting for revenge. They'd probably torn the poor boy limb from limb. _One more for your conscience, _he told himself. _Add him to the list_. He had a sudden vision of himself in Hell, fighting with Captain Barbossa over who should get the top bunk - whose record was really blacker?

He shook the image away and headed for the stairs, dreading the carnage he was going to find...

But when he got down to the brig he could only stare. There was no carnage at all. No dead bodies. Everything was as it should be, except that the pirates had somehow transformed themselves into a pack of wild bush-people, complete with bones through their noses, spears, and necklaces made of human body parts.

Norrington decided he had lost his mind. He let go and just started screaming.

* * *

TBC. 

Teehee! Even better than DrunkAndDissolute!Norrington is TotalPsychoticBreakdown!Norrington. Man... apparently I really don't like this guy.

What do you think??


	34. Now: Barbossa keeps a promise

Something of a sugary chapter. Sorry and all. Next one is darker, I promise. This is Lizzie and Will and their happy time… with Jack doing cartwheels around the edges.

A/N: a-k-a-amber: I answer one of your questions this chappie (one for two aint bad!). Points to you for remembering.

Sorry this has taken so long. I see London, I see France. I see Sparrow's underpants. True, true, the lot of it. Read on…

* * *

The administration of several jarring slaps to the face was finally successful in snapping Norrington out of it. His men shut him up in his cabin and went to investigate the prisoners for themselves. They found a note and a map hung from the nose-ornament of one of the savages, and as the note was addressed to Norrington they brought it to him to look at. He seemed much calmer as he unrolled it and began to read…

_My Dearest Commodore:_

_If you are reading this, then I regret to inform you it means I have met with a very sad and untimely end, and I require a favor. Rest assured of course that you will be compensated far beyond your wildest dreams. And I do mean that literally, mate._

_The bearers of this note once rendered me a great service, and now to pay them back I ask only that you take them home, using the chart I've provided. It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Commodore, and I do wish you all the best._

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Jack Sparrow._

_PS: When in the presence of these people, under no circumstances whatsoever should you point to yourself and speak the words "Sorry mate you're it."_

Without Gilette to bounce ideas off of, the next best things were Charlotte and the Governor. Neither of them knew what to make of the situation either, though. The Governor's first comment was: "Well, obviously Sparrow wrote this before he died."

Norrington grit his teeth. "Thank you, Governor."

"So are you going to do it, James?" Charlotte asked.

Norrington was glad to have her as the voice of reason today – he was still so rattled he was not confident that he could produce reason for himself. "Before I decide that, shouldn't I try to figure out who they are and where they've come from?"

With little help from her brain-fried husband and the Governor, Charlotte pieced together a possible explanation. The savages must have been hidden on the _Pearl _the whole time,she concluded. They were probably with the oars or someplace while the ship was being cleared out. Nobody could remember checking in there, so it made perfect sense. It seemed, then, that Elizabeth was probably _not_ hidden someplace on Norrington's ship brooding alone with her demented grief (the Governor had hoped against hope that this might be the case, even when two shipwide searches had failed to turn her up). She, knowing where the pirate crew was being kept and knowing where Norrington was sailing to, had snuck off and somehow returned to the _Pearl,_ and with the help of the cannibal crew had pursued, and caught up during the storm, and it was under her leadership that the pirates had effected the amazing escape.

Perhaps, in that case, Charlotte reasoned, the savages really were just friends of Jack, and with him dead they simply wanted to go home. Perhaps in that case there was no harm in taking them. So, although the letter tore at Norrington's heart with its friendly tone and its blithe assumption that news of Jack's death was a surprise – _it never crossed his mind that I'd be the one to do it to him, did it _– Norrington read it over once more and resolved to obey.

Although he did wonder whether he could resist saying "Sorry mate you're it" just to see what on earth Jack was talking about…

* * *

Jack was sure that his note would be enough to send Norrington off to the Pelegostos' island… which, in turn, would give him plenty of time to beat Norrington home, storm Port Royal, and…

"We'll have the party well underway before the poor Commodore even gets there," Jack finished with a wide smile.

Will frowned. "Party?"

"No," Barbossa said. "Jack, use that rock you call _head _for a second, would you? The party is a stupid risk. We've only just finished escapin from death… and now you want to go diving straight back into it?"

"Now, come on, mate – you promised." There was something very like a warning in Jack's tone.

Elizabeth looked from one to the other. "Party?"

Jack made a face. "See, now you've gone and spoiled the surprise," he complained. "_Fine,_ I'll explain." He draped an arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and looked down at her, enjoying the view, until she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest and regretted wearing a dress. "Well, darling, here's the big plan, in a small nutshell. Basically I want to scurry our little selves into your papa's nice little mansion. We're going to open up the wine cellar, strike up some music, and have ourselves a huge bloody party! What say you to that, eh? The crew will all be invited, and of course any Port Royal citizens, especially the ladies. Evening dress is optional – any dress at all is optional, actually, and I certainly hope some of them decide to come without."

He went on to describe the party in more and bizarrer detail. When he was done Elizabeth declared (even though she knew it was a lost cause), "You are _not _throwing a party in my father's house. Especially when he's not home. Or ever."

Jack looked to Barbossa for backup, and Barbossa sighed. "I did promise."

"See?" Jack demanded with a tone that even Willie recognized as childish. Elizabeth just rolled her eyes, and it seemed that he was going to get the party _that _easily. It hadn't quite satisfied his craving for trouble, so Jack decided to drum up some more. "Speaking of promises," he reminded Barbossa, "It seems to me you'd best make me some kind of very handsome offer to get me to release you from your _other _promise… the one regarding _her_." He tightened his arm around Elizabeth and jostled her a little.

She wriggled out of Jack's arm and edged closer to Will, who put _his _arm around her in a much more reassuring way. "Her?" he asked.

"Aye, her." Barbossa turned to face her full on, looked her up and down so that she blushed crimson without really knowing why, and told Jack: "You know, I don't think I'm going to ask you to release me after all. I think I'll be keepin that promise. Her husband died," he explained, "And that makes Elizabeth a widow – fair game for someone to marry. I'll marry her, Jack, as I promised."

Her frown of confusion was so deep it was giving her a headache. "Excuse me – Captain, you said you're going to _marry_ me?"

"I had a choice, missie: promise him or die," Barbossa told her calmly. He dropped his eyes to his boots and let his hand wander nervously towards his sword hilt. "So I promised him. Elizabeth… breakin a promise to Jack would mean losin my share of the _Pearl_. I don't ask much of ye…"

There was silence for a moment while she tried to sort out her thoughts. After a long frozen instant, he began to raise his head to look up at her. She couldn't imagine a pleading look on his face and had no idea what she would answer and how she would feel about it…

But when Barbossa met her eyes, his were sparkling. "…So I'm beggin ye, miss," he continued with a world of amusement in his voice, "I'm beggin to have the honor of marrying you… here on this very deck… to William Turner, same as Jack did ten years ago."

So then everything was fine – and it was such an adorable idea besides! She didn't realize right away that her eyes had gotten misty. She shook free of Will and took both Barbossa's hands. "Why, Captain, I must confess I…" She started out coy, but soon found the combination of relief and excitement too dizzying and just gave it up. "Yes, _yes, _a thousand times yes!" she squealed, diving into his arms and squeezing him and planting a very teary kiss on his neck.

Jack was staring at his partner in wonderment. "Why, you little _sneak,_" he breathed. "You are slimier than the eel in Davy's codpiece!"

"Oy! Watch that," Will reminded sharply, gesturing towards his son, who was lurking (despite all orders) at the edges of the adult conversation. "Little ears."

Willie stepped up and objected to that. "I do _not _have little ears." He resolutely looked away from Captain Sparrow, who had a finger to his lips and was attempting to look fierce. "Anyway it's too late, Papa - they already taught me to swear."

"We did not." Jack sounded offended at the very notion. He glared down at Willie and ordered out of the side of his mouth, "Shut your scabrous hole, you."

"I will not." Willie mimicked his stance and sassed, "You shut _yours, _ya poxy whoreson!"

"Willie!" Even Elizabeth was scandalized.

Jack grinned at him. "Where did you get that? That one I really didn't-"

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't – you being the very soul of decency and truth and all." Will was too busy glaring at Jack to notice that Barbossa suddenly wore an expression of angelic innocence. "Willie, no more of that talk - you don't even know what it means, you've no idea how filthy it is."

"Yes, I do." Ignoring Jack's shushing gestures and then his pantomimes of throat-slitting, Willie proceeded to recount exactly why one ought not consort with whores of the poxy variety. "And," he added afterwards, "Jack also told me how you recognize them. What you do is you think of what those monsters on the _Flying Dutchman _look like. A poxy girl is one what looks normal til you get her knickers off, and then looks like one of those monsters underneath. She'll sometimes smell like one, too – so you can still tell even if it's dark out or if you've had so much rum you can't see straight." This shocked both his parents into silence, and he finished with a putdown that (while pilfered almost word-for-word from Barbossa and entirely beyond his understanding) was effective enough to get a rise out of Jack that was only half playful. "_And, _the reason Jack knows all this," he explained, edging away, "Is that he's been poxed more times than he can count. It's why no wench who's not blind and crazy will let him into her room and..." Jack lunged for him and he had to jump back and hide behind Elizabeth. "... and even _dogs_ run away from him."

Jack faked one way and dove the other, so Willie ducked under Elizabeth's skirt and hid there. "… And if they can't get away from him," he continued from his safe spot, "Then they keep their legs closed and their _arse_ against a wall…"

Jack dropped to his knees and reached for Elizabeth's hem, obviously intending to pursue Willie into the sacred space beneath. That, of course, was not something Will would tolerate. He tackled Jack to the deck.

Willie profited by their scuffle to dash out the front of Elizabeth's dress and run away. "...BECAUSE THEY KNOW JACK IS WHERE ALL THEIR FLEAS CAME FROM!" he shouted from a safe distance.

"You ungrateful little monkey!" Jack shook free of Will and took off after the boy, who'd had enough of a head start to be almost halfway up the rigging. "See if I ever teach _you _how to explode things again!"

Will watched them climb, trying not to feel nervous on Willie's behalf.

Elizabeth wasn't watching - she had more important things on her mind. "Captain? With Jack occupied... it might go smoothest if we did it now..." She looked up at him and blinked her long eyelashes. "Captain Barbossa, I want you to marry me." She couldn't keep a straight face, but neither could he. "...to Will."

"Glad to." He glanced up. "We'd best hurry, afore Jack gets back down here." He held out his hand, and Elizabeth put hers into it and gave him a little squeeze. He turned to Will. "Any objections, Turner?"

"None whatever. Elizabeth..." Will had suddenly become shy again. "You look beautiful. As always."

"Give it here." Barbossa gestured for Will's hand, took it roughly by the wrist, and lay it atop Elizabeth's. "Now. On the one hand this be almost a formality," he began, looking from one to the other. "Because it's been clear to everybody with two eyes and half a brain that ye would end up together, that ye were meant for each other, and that you'll love each other for the rest of forever. I'd say _as long as ye both shall live,_" he added as an aside, "But we all know that won't be the end of it." Elizabeth was already sniffing back tears, which as usual prompted Will to take action.

He put his other hand on top of the pile and said, "Elizabeth, I swear-"

Barbossa slapped his hand and removed it. "I didn't ask ye to swear nothin yet," he declared. "I'm not finished."

Elizabeth laughed through her tears and Will murmured, "Sorry, Captain" with a guilty-schoolboy look.

"S'right you are," Barbossa growled at him, but they both could read him well enough now to know it was all right to smile. "Anyhow. As I was sayin, in some ways this seems hardly necessary, but on the other hand I do think it's important that we marry you all over again." He faced the groom and said, "Things be different this time, Will. Everyone knows Elizabeth took off to run wild with pirates, here ye are back from the dead... you won't be able to pass y'rselves off as bein boring no more. Means you can let Elizabeth own up to who she is a bit. D'you think you're man enough to handle it now? People lookin at you funny and all?"

Will actually gave it a moment of thought. "Yes, I am," he said at last.

"Good. And _you, _missie..." he turned on Elizabeth and she swallowed hard to calm the butterflies in her stomach. "The whole point of bein married is you _don't _have to bear everythin alone," he reminded her. "The boy's grown up enough that you can talk frank to him when you need to. I don't want to hear you makin no more promises that make you miserable, not about World's End nor preventin children nor whatever else you were afraid to fight about. Speak your mind to him as y'do to me or Jack - he says he can take it. Is that clear?"

Elizabeth nodded but found her throat too tight to speak.

"That's good, then. Luck to ye both. Do you, Will Turner, take back the missie standin before you to be your lawful wife, adored and obeyed and all that - again?"

"I do." Will's voice was shaking.

"And you, Elizabeth? Do ye swear to be a good wife to this puppy all over again?"

"I do."

"All right. Then I now pronounce ye man and wife - again. Go on, Will, you can kiss the bride."

Will very nearly answered _Are you sure you're not going to ask for a turn first? _but then realized it would only open him up to a host of inappropriate and offensive remarks... and besides, Elizabeth was waiting, with her eyes closed and lips just a little parted. No comment, however clever, was worth putting that on hold.

By the time Jack made it over to them with a squealing Willie Turner slung over his shoulders, Will and Elizabeth were locked in a kiss so passionate it was doubtful that even Jack Sparrow could have found a way to disturb them.

* * *

"I can't believe you went and did it without me," Jack sulked. Well, if he couldn't have fun by interfering with the wedding, he would do something else even _more _annoying. After a moment of thought he decided to dump Willie overboard.

But Willie was quick, and when it became apparent that Jack was headed for the railing, he stopped shrieking "Put me down!" and switched to "Don't drop me overboard! Put me down _on the deck_!" He tangled his hands in Jack's hair and got his legs around Jack's waist and hung on for all he was worth. "No no _no_!"

By this time Jack's pride had kicked in, and he decided he would have to dump the kid if it was the last thing he did. Unfortunately, none of his methods of child-detachment, including tickling, was effective. In the end he was forced to climb over the railing with Willie still hanging onto him, and dive over himself.

Almost as soon as he surfaced, a rope hit him in the face. "Thanks, mate," he called up to Barbossa, pretending not to hear the stream of curse words floating down at him. He grabbed the rope with one hand, holding onto Willie with his other until the boy's head broke the surface. "I told you I'd get you over," Jack said, without the slightest acknowledgement that soaking himself had lessened the victory. "Now c'mon, son - up with you." He helped Willie situate himself on the rope and started climbing up behind him.

Jack's suicide-dunk of their son had finally gotten the parents' attention, and they were both leaning out over the railing by the time Willie reached the top. Elizabeth reached down to help him, and without thinking they grabbed hand to wrist and she yanked him over with one great heave.

Barbossa was very proud of the way the two of them had turned out. Even through the dress he could see the movement of muscles on Elizabeth's shoulders, and the hat she was wearing did nothing to hide her suntan or the exuberant anarchy of her hair. Much as he liked Elizabeth, though, he had to admit that Willie's progress was even more dramatic – the boy was strong and confident and with a wicked spark in his eyes (and a filthy vocabulary) that made it almost hard to recognize him as the whelp in lace who'd been dragged crying onto the _Pearl_ all those weeks ago. It was really a shame not to have those two around for when Davy Jones came to settle the score…

_But we'll manage, me and Jack, _Barbossa thought to himself firmly. This would have been more convincing to him if he had not been actually looking at Jack at the moment – Jack had climbed up into the rigging and chosen a spot and was hanging his clothes… _all _his clothes… out to dry.

_We'll manage, _Barbossa insisted, squinting up at the lacier bits of Jack's garments. _But those ARE for women, I'm sure of it..._

* * *

TBC. Okay, remember, I did this on a public computer overseas. Sorry for any spelling mistakes or whatever.

Definitely review – it brightens my day and gives me ideas and all that good stuff. Thanks to those who already do!

So it does look like things are shaping up for a large multi-party showdown in the Governor's mansion. Can't say I saw that one coming, but hey, they're pirates and they have a mind of their own and that seems to be what's in the cards… I think…


	35. Then: Beckett leaves his mark

A/N: Sorry, sorry for the delay! No spellcheck yet, but I'm back in the states now and so this final week or two of updates should be pretty regular.

* * *

Beckett could never say afterwards exactly how he knew.

He was walking down the street, so obsessed with his near-capture of Jack Sparrow, so desperate to figure out what on earth he had done wrong, _how _had that utter _imbecile _of a pirate slipped through his fingers (and given him a hideous scar on the belly that would make him self-conscious with the ladies for the rest of his life)...

He was paying so little attention to where he was going that he walked straight into another pedestrian. Annoyed that some civilian would dare be in his way and interfere with his brooding, Beckett snapped "Excuse _you_" and looked up from the cobblestones to glare.

The robe would have been giveaway enough, but the man he had bumped into was also carrying a well-worn Bible and was looking down at him without the slightest sign of annoyance. "Excuse me, my son," he agreed solemnly. "I'm afraid my mind was elsewhere."

Beckett sighed and looked away. Did he really need to be professionally humiliated, physicaly mutilated, _and _damned to Hell all in the same weekend? Perhaps it was not prudent to pick fights with clerics for no reason at all. "My mind was also elsewhere," Beckett admitted, "And likely in a much less worthy place than yours. I wasn't watching where I was going. My apologies."

The cleric told him to go with God and they parted ways.

It wasn't until he was twenty paces away that Beckett suddenly _knew._

It wasn't the looks - even if he mentally divested the man of his beard and grey hair and spectacles, even if he imagined him into a tattered pirate shirt and a number of unmatching hair ornaments... he couldn't see enough resemblance to be sure.

It wasn't the sound, either. Beckett had heard enough of the pirate's rum-roughened voice this weekend to be sure of recognizing it anywhere, and the mellow _Excuse me, my son _bore it no resemblance whatsoever.

Yet somehow, by some process he could never later explain, Beckett reached the conclusion that he had just bumped into Jack Sparrow dressed as a priest, no doubt on some business that would land him right back in the jail he had just escaped from.

He turned on his heel, crashing into two more people and not wasting time with apologies, and scurried back through the crowd.

* * *

Jack awoke in an all-consuming sunburst of pain and terror. His body convulsed so wildly his neck cracked, and he couldn't see, and his ears were ringing after a deafeningly loud noise he only later realized was himself screaming.

After that first moment of mindless panic, he noticed that though the pain was intense it wasn't getting worse... and besides, several people were holding him still. He forced himself to take a breath and stop struggling.

He opened his eyes but it was too dark to see much beyond several bright blurs that might be lanterns or fires. He tried to blink the tears away to clear things up, but before he managed much, someone helped him out.

"Good evening, Sparrow. Wasn't it considerate of me to do it while you were asleep?"

"While I..." Jack coughed to clear the frog out of his throat. Something was wrong with his head - a dull throbbing something. From experience he identified the feeling as a terrific blow to the skull that had probably knocked him so silly he would never remember the events leading up to it. What else... something was wrong with his arm. A sharp, itchy, burning something, which he had never felt before and which was severe enough to make him worry that his hand had been cut off. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to calm his breathing down. _Look at it, you bloody coward, _he ordered himself. He opened his eyes and managed to make out what looked like his hand and his arm held down on an anvil - still attached.

He breathed a sigh of relief and flexed his fingers, although it hurt unbearably to do. "What'd you do to me?" he rasped.

The voice laughed. "My God, he _is _disoriented." It was a high, cold voice, with a tone of sardonic amusement that Jack was sure he recognized.

"Wait a bit... I know you." Jack squinted but couldn't see into the shadows - and still couldn't see just what was wrong with his arm. "You're... er... ah bugger- _Bucket,_" he produced suddenly, with a triumphant grin. "I knew I knew you."

"It's _Beckett, _Mr. Sparrow, as I know I have told you countless times over the last few days." The voice held more than a touch of annoyance. "Now... you wanted to know what we did to you?"

Ordinarily Jack would have liked to pretend indifference a little longer just to annoy his captor (whose name he did of course remember perfectly), but he decided that the mysterious injury was a more pressing matter than playing games. "I can't see."

"That's because it's rather dark in here," Beckett explained patiently, "And you've been unconscious for quite some time. I think I concussed you pretty badly. My apologies for that, by the way." He came to kneel down where Jack would be able to see him.

"You did it yourself?" Jack was surprised - it felt like the sort of goose egg that required a large man with a mallet. "I congratulate you. Now... let's see what we've got here, eh?"

Beckett laid a finger daintily on Jack's forearm up by the elbow, near enough to the site of the pain to be nasty but not quite close enough to make him cry again. "I know you can't see much yet - it just looks raw. Wait til it swells up and gets infected, though. Let's see you play diguises _then_." He traced a shape slowly and clearly.

Oh nono _no. _Jack got it now. The brand, he had the brand, he was branded a bloody flaming pirate... Time to kiss freedom goodbye because that was _it_, he was stuck a pirate and _only _a pirate now and forever and there was no more question of doing whatever he wanted now, now all choices were made for him and all doors closed and _this was it._

"Sparrow? Sparrow? What are you doing, are you all ri-"

He breathing had become so shallow and rapid that he lost consciousness again.

* * *

Jack awoke in a cell. He was lying shackled up on the ground, miserable with the headache and the pain of the brand.

But he felt a little calmer. If he were to be really honest with himself, if he were to be realistic, he would have to admit that the brand changed very little. Sure - he _could _have walked away from piracy until today. But would he? Ever?

Of course not. So although the idea of losing a freedom (even one he never intended to use) made his blood boil, he would just have to learn to live with it.

The only thing Beckett had _really _taken from him was his ability to wear a truly perfect disguise. Jack had passed himself off as a _woman _for Heaven's sake, as a professor, a gentleman, a surgeon (that one was harrowing; he had actually had to remove a bullet and had done it so well that nobody called him out). He had had some wonderful times making friends with upstanding respectable citizens, eating at their tables, riding in their carriages, teaching (made-up) geography to their children. And of course helping himself to any of their shiny possessions that would fit into his pockets. It was an amusing pasttime, yes, but he knew it was something he would eventually have to grow out of. _Real _pirates, he had been told again and again, preferred butchery to intrigue whenever possible.

In a sense perhaps Beckett had even done him a favor, then. The brand would help him get respect, it would keep him firmly on track for the furtherance of his career... hell, it even _looked _nice. And maybe, now that he was getting over his fear of being marked, he could finally get himself a tattoo.

Jack felt his mood lifting in spite of the pain. He sat up and took a deep breath. Right. Things were fine - all he had to do now was escape from jail. Again.

* * *

Luck was with him - after only the second changing of the guard he found a familiar face. "You. Thank God," he murmured, leaning up against the bars. "I assume we can come to an arrangement again?"

The guard sighed. "Don't you think they'll find it suspicious that you escaped twice on my watch?"

"Pish-posh, they didn't suspect you at all last time," Jack dismissed with a wave of his hand. "And I paid you plenty."

"Tell you what... I'll get you a hacksaw and some rope. Saw through the bars on your window now, and then climb out later tonight when someone else is in charge."

Jack decided at once that it was acceptable. There was only the small issue of payment - men of the cloth didn't exactly go around carrying bags of money, and his disguise had absolutely nothing gold or jewel-encrusted with which he could barter. "Fine - but I'll have to pay you once I'm out. I don't have anything with me."

"The money's up front or there's no deal." The guard was almost laughing with the absurdity of Jack's proposal. "You think I'm going to trust a pirate?"

After a moment's thought Jack nodded. "Very well, find a set of pliers and the payment's up front. Now go on and get that saw."

It wasn't an ideal solution perhaps, but the way his arm was hurting Jack knew he would hardly notice the yanking of a couple of his gold teeth. Anyhow, it would be worth it - two escapes in one weekend from the same jail had to be a record of some kind.

And as to hiding under a wig and amusing himself among the honest citizens... the devil would a little thing like a pirate brand get in his way! _Sometime as soon as I have a minute I **will **get myself back into one of those silly drawing rooms, _he promised himself. _If I have to build me own bloody mansion. Or maybe I could just marry some princess... could work... Although I'll probably have to replace the teeth first or I'll look like some old leprous hag and no princess'll have me. Course, considering I now read PIRATE it's doubtful whether any princess would have me anyway... although I'm sure there's a market for handsome and notorious outlaws someplace. Yep. So long as I don't get myself marked up any worse I'm probably all right._

* * *

TBC.

Inspiration for this chapter came from:

- Johnny Depp saying he'd added extra gold teeth into the costume as bartering material (yes, I know this isn't what he had in mind).

- Somebody asking why Jack was so keen on having a party inside someone's fancy mansion.

- Lord Beckett's "left our marks" bit. I got the impression that he was very proud of himself for how he'd manage to catch Jack, and that in return Jack had embarrassed him pretty badly.


	36. Now: Elizabeth hosts a party

A/N: This chapter starts talky and ends up somewhat actiony. Next chapter is all action, action, action. Complete with fights and fire and bodice-ripping and murder. Yes - all of the above.

* * *

Just before they reached Port Royal, Elizabeth took Jack aside. "I know how much you want your ridiculous party," she told him, "But Will and I are going to have enough trouble getting ourselves accepted again _without _causing that kind of trouble on our very first day back." Jack gestured for her to just spit it out. "A month," she said quickly. "Drop us in Port Royal alone, and don't return there for a month. That way people won't think straight away to blame it on us when you come staggering. Just give us a month. We can make it worth your while."

Jack didn't even ask what kind of bargain she'd thought up – he had a better one in mind. "All right: _persuade_ me."

"I beg your pardon!" Elizabeth shoved him back and crossed her arms. "I am a married woman, Jack."

"Which is not in the least bit my fault," he reminded her. "In fact I'm rather upset about it. However... I _might _be able to forgive you for getting married behind me back... if you were to..."

A loud sigh interrupted them, and they both turned to see Will standing well within hearing distance of the whole conversation. "I somehow knew we weren't going to be able to avoid this." He made no move to come stand between them, which was surprising enough, but then he shrugged and said easily, "Go on, darling - you can persuade him if you want."

Elizabeth did a double-take. "What?"

Will sauntered over and kissed her hand, then placed it on Jack's shoulder. "I said go ahead and kiss him if you like." He looked nothing more than curious - not pained or jealous or even tense.

"Don't have to ask _me _twice," Jack put in, and got to it.

It was certainly Jack's usual kiss - fun and tasty and just this side of rough - but Elizabeth found it much less electric now that she wasn't so conflicted about it. When they broke apart, her heart wasn't racing half so fast as usual.

Jack shook his head with a smile. "You are good," he admitted. Elizabeth knew he wasn't talking to her. "Fine – I'm so nice it amazes me – you two can have your bloody month alone."

"Two weeks will be fine," Elizabeth said. "I only said a month so I'd have something to bargain with."

"Pirate," Jack breathed into her face. He kissed her on the nose and scampered off.

* * *

Later on, out of the blue, Willie went up to his father and said, "Jack always teases her but I've never seen him do _that._ I would have stopped him. Somehow."

Will knew right away what "that" was, and winced. How on earth could he explain it?

"I appreciate your standing up for me," he answered at last. "But you don't have to be angry at either of them – I gave my permission. I know it seems strange, but I love your mother so much that I let her do very stupid things like kiss a pirate every once in a while."

Willie chewed it over and, because he wasn't sure what he thought, decided to answer with something silly. "What about _me, _Papa? Do you love _me _enough to let me kiss a pirate?"

It suprised Will into a snort of laughter. "I love you to pieces, son, but I'd no sooner let you kiss a pirate than become one yourself."

The silly mood evaporated instantly and Willie went very still. "You wouldn't let me be a pirate?"

"Lord, no!" Will laughed, before a terrible understanding dawned. "You mean you would _want _to be?"

Willie had no trouble reading his father's reaction, and invented something quickly. "Course not!" he declared. "I was just being a thrice-damned contrary little whelp like usual. I wasn't being serious."

Later on it occurred to Willie that in his place, his father would _never _have lied about something so meaningful... but he knew exactly who would.

* * *

The Turners were dropped quickly and quietly off at Port Royal and snuck back into their house in the dead of night. They had cooked up a very elaborate story regarding Will's long absence: his accident had not quite killed him, but sent him to a faraway hospital – specifically, in Singapore – where they had amazing mystical medicine-men that could help. It had all been kept a secret because the prospects were uncertain and they didn't want their son's hopes raised for nothing. Then, on the way back, Will had been shipwrecked and left destitute on an island where nobody spoke English, and he had only just finally managed to make it home.

They were very proud of this story and had practiced making it sound natural, but unfortunately nobody seemed to care much at all. As it turned out, Will's lack of political ambitions or wealth or extramarital scandals meant that people were largely uninterested in his return to the city. Even the Governor, when he got back from returning the cannibals to their island, was not sufficiently shocked to require smelling salts.

"I've seen so many bizarre things lately," he said with more irritation than anything else. "What's one more added to the pile?" He agreed with Elizabeth that they should have a big reception to honor Will's return, and accepted the date she suggested without any suspicion whatsoever.

Over the wheezing objections issuing forth from Mr. Mercer's hospital bed, Governor Swann officially cleared Norrington of the charge of fraternizing with pirates. He ordered Jack Sparrow's body tarred and caged and hung up near the harbour.

He _thought_ he had pretty much tied up all the loose ends.

The Turners thought it was going to be pretty funny when it all unraveled.

* * *

So the day eventually came for Will's welcome-home party. It was a huge affair hosted by the Governor and attended by anybody who was anybody, and Elizabeth spent the afternoon receiving guests in a gigantic gown and looking over her shoulder for Jack Sparrow to make his entrance.

Finally, it was almost dinnertime and the guests were all accounted for, so the massive front entrance was closed. Not five minutes later, there was a knock.

Elizabeth had been lurking by the door all day so that she would be the one to handle it. She stood by as men swung the door open and prepared a speech to calm everyone down...

But when the door opened, she was speechless – because it wasn't Jack Sparrow at all. "I know it's terribly rude of me to turn up uninvited..."

Elizabeth finally found her voice. "Lord Beckett?!"

He shook his head reproachfully, still smiling. "How many times must we-"

"Cutler. You're alive. What are you _doing _here? Come in, come in." She took one of his hands in both of hers and held it to her chest. "You wouldn't believe how glad I am to see you - and I don't even like you!" Her smile faded and she looked him over. "Are you all right?"

He ordered his heart to exit his stomach and return to its proper place and for Heaven's sake stop pounding. Elizabeth glad to see him - and it was obviously genuine - was so unnerving that he wasn't sure he could manage a tone of proper sarcasm, so he just nodded.

"Well, I'm glad if my advice helped you. How did you escape him?" Her eyes were glowing. She was excited, admiring, exactly as he'd always wanted her...

It almost killed him to admit, "I...didn't."

She frowned, and then understood. She dropped his hand and stepped back. "I see. So you are here under Davy's orders tonight?"

"I work for Jones now, yes. However, I assure you my aims here tonight are entirely self-serving." Years of practice let him project contemptuous amusement no matter how he was feeling. "He's going to allow me to live on land. Everyone's here tonight, so I thought – if the hostess doesn't object – this might be a good opportunity to start working myself back into the fabric of Port Royal life."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, Cutler," she laughed derisively. "You were _never _a part of the fabric of Port Royal life. At the very best you're a barnacle clinging to our hull. Come." She took his arm and made him escort her back into the party. "How shall I introduce you?"

"Elizabeth..." He tried to get her to look at him.

"Let me do my duty as hostess first. I won't consider gutting you til afterwards."

After they made their rounds of the room – Lord Beckett laughing off rumors of his death and gracefully fielding compliments about how he'd hardly aged a day – Elizabeth dragged him into a broom closet and pushed him down onto a box. "Now talk: what are you doing here?"

Beckett put his hands on her hips and guided her down so that she was kneeling by his seat. It was hard to make out eye contact in the dim light, so he took her by the chin to make sure she was looking at him. "I'm allied with Davy Jones against anyone who crosses him – which, at the moment, means your pirates." He dropped nearly a whisper and added, "We are enemies now, Elizabeth." It was as though he'd forgotten that they had _always _been enemies, and she pulled away with a snort. "Don't underestimate me," Beckett warned. In the dark she could hear him stand up. "Perhaps you can beat me in a swordfight, but I assure you if we're going to play politics I will maneuver you right into a corner... and hold you there."

His breath was suddenly on her neck, but she refused to be intimidated. Instead, she slid a stiletto from her bodice and turned to face him. "Fortunately, at close quarters my skills are more useful than yours," she growled. She pressed the tip of her blade into his throat and he laughed against it.

"I'm going to enjoy dealing with you, my dear."

"Rest assured the feeling is _not _mutual." She glared at him and wished it were light enough for him to see it. "Does Davy know about tonight?"

"Does Jack?"

"Cutler, I mean it! These are innocent people. I have to know that they're safe, or I'm going to send them home!"

"Relax," Beckett purred, once again standing far too close for comfort. "Jones is concerned with the _Pearl_, not with you. I can't imagine what he'd gain by making an appearance at your little party. Can you?"

There was amusement in his voice beyond just the joy of harassing a pretty woman. She suddenly worried that somehow he knew that the _Pearl _was around. "You're not telling me something," she accused. "Out with it. Come, we both know you're going to tell me, because if you don't tell me then you won't get to gloat. So: out with it."

"You're such a storm cloud," he complained, "Spoiling my sunny afternoon in the park. Very well, I admit it: I have something of a surprise for you. It's a surprise which regrettably cannot travel just now, but I think it would be well worth your while to take a ride with me and see it."

"Take a ride with you?" she laughed. "Are you mad?"

"We'll be back before we're missed. I promise you're not at risk of bodily harm – and you know perfectly well lying and murder are not my style."

"Yes, you're more for manipulation and execution."

"Precisely." He smiled, sensing that she was giving in. "Besides, you've already pointed out that I can't overpower you... what are you afraid of?"

What she was afraid of was that her party would be overrun by pirates while she was away... but she couldn't very well tell Cutler that, could she? It wouldn't do to let him know anything about Jack's plans. And so, being out of excuses, she agreed to sneak out of the party to go see what horrid surprise her enemy had dredged up… so long as they let Will know he was taking her.

Just before they left the broom closet Beckett suggested that her dress was too cumbersome to sneak around in. "You should change into something slightly less... constricting. Shall I?" He raised a hand to her laces.

She slapped him across the face. "Next time it'll be a dagger, savvy?" she snapped. "Hands to yourself."

She was so annoyed with Beckett that she was hardly paying attention as they snuck out the kitchen entrance of the mansion and slipped off into the gathering darkness. She didn't notice any of the shady characters lurking around the house... even the one who abandoned his post in the shadows to follow her.

* * *

Elizabeth was right to expect the pirates in the near future – they were in fact already in Port Royal, and had been strutting around the city drunk for most of the day. The captains had had them park the _Pearl _far away from the harbor the night before and slip into town on foot, in as much disguise as they could muster. In the course of their sightseeing, they'd stumbled upon the gibbeted body of the infamous pirate Jack Sparrow… and considering they still had some time to kill before making their entrance into Elizabeth's party, Jack decided to take a moment there.

"'Ello, handsome!" he called up.

Handsome didn't answer back.

Jack continued to stare, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he looked at his corpse's. "D'you think the beads are a little bit much, then?"

But that gave him an idea. Beads... ornaments... jewelry! "My rings! You've got on my rings, don't you?!" Jack threw a rock up at the cage. "'Ey! You up there!"

Barbossa whacked him in the head. "Be quiet and quit lollygaggin."

"You're not going to be any fun at all tonight, are you," Jack complained. "Listen, I want a minute here. You and the men go on up ahead and wait for me. Just lurk around or something until I get there. We won't go in until after dark anyhow - much more fearsome that way. Go on."

Barbossa could think of no conceivable reason for refusing Jack some time alone with his corpse, so he just took the men on up ahead to skulk in secret around the Governor's mansion until it was time to crash the party.

Once he was alone, Jack looked around and decided that the tree from which the gibbet hung might be the answer.

He climbed up the tree, but couldn't get high enough to climb out on the limb that held the body, so instead he clung to the trunk and drew his sword. If he leaned, he could just barely touch the tip to the bars, and he could push and get the cage swinging. He pushed again, and it swung a little further. Push. Swing. Push. Swing. P-

"Sorry, love!" he called when he missed the bars on one poke and actually stabbed his blade into the tarred corpse.

Eventually the cage was in grabbing distance. He timed his jump perfectly so that the cage was swinging towards him, and let go of the tree and leaped aboard. "Ahoy! Gotcha!" he gasped. He was now inches from his own dead bloated face, and he found that it made him a little nervous. Talking helped. "How are things then, eh? You won't be needing these anymore, now, will you? Oh, come _on, _Jack, where's the trust? Give over!" He got a hand through the bars, but the corpse's arms were crossed on its chest and the hands all stuck together with some grisly force he didn't really want to think about.

Finally he isolated one hand and went for the rings. They were ordinarily very loose, but the corpse had puffed up so much that Jack had to seriously consider cutting off his own (former) fingers. In the end he settled for breaking the fingers one by one and then working his rings patiently over each disjointed knuckle.

He was on the very last one when somebody loud and drunk shouted "Geddown frmm there or I'll shoot!"

Jack froze, heard the sound of a gun cock, and dropped to the ground. "All right, all right, look, I can explain-" he began, but a bullet whizzed by his head.

Fortunately Norrington was too drunk to come anywhere near hitting his target. Once his bullet was spent he backed away so fast he tripped and fell on his ass, then fumbled around trying to reload. He fully intended to shoot _himself _this time. If he was so far gone he would see Jack Sparrow's face on every pitiful criminal and grave robber from now til eternity, well, then he might as well just end it now as-

But a hand closed over his and pulled it from his gun. "Why don't we give this to me," the voice purred. Sparrow's voice. "There, isn't that better?"

Norrington blinked his eyes into focus and stared, and yes, even from a distance of six inches, it was Sparrow's face. "Leave me be!" he shouted, so sloppy drunk that the words could barely be made out. "Please stop…" He began weeping, as well, which didn't help his intelligibility any. He fell to his knees and covered his face, mumbling, "God forgive me, forgive me I-…I know suicide's a sin but I can't live like this, I can't, I deserve nothing but Hell anyway after I- God, how..." he swallowed and grabbed the ghost's shoulders and said feverishly, "I see him - _you _- everywhere! Leave me alone! If only I could have a... I mean I'd never, I wouldn't, good God that was a _friend_, I stood by and-... Where's my gun? My gun – give me my gun."

"Mmm, how about not," Jack suggested. "Listen here: you _do _get another chance. See – here I am and I'm fine. And better yet, we're going to a party tonight."

Norrington started to laugh. "I'm sure we are. A party in Hell. So it seems I'm going mad, then?"

"Course not," Jack said firmly. "You're fine. See?" He shook him, then slapped him a good one. "There, that feels real, doesn't it?"

Head spinning, Norrington sank down to the ground with his face in his hands. He concentrated on just breathing (and not hurling) for a good long time. When he finally sat up again, it took him a while to remember where he was. He had come out to see Jack (again!), and had had one of those episodes where he thought he could actually _see _and _hear_-

Jack only nodded happily.

"I don't understand." He stood, grimacing at the headache it brought him, and grabbed at the apparition. "Is this a dream? How drunk am I? Or have I truly lost my mind this time?"

"_No _to the first, _very _to the second, and as to the losing-your-mind bit, well... it's difficult to say." Jack flashed him a smile. "Come on, mate - I died, my friends sailed to World's End to find me... it's not the first time."

Norrington's heart leaped - the way it _always_ did, every night when he saw Jack and Jack forgave him, no matter how many times he told himself it was just a dream. "Jack Sparrow is not alive," he said evenly, and just waited for himself to wake up.

But instead, Jack just smiled and gave a little bow. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, actually. Now, if you'll excuse me for just one moment..." He went over to the tree where the gibbet was and began to climb it.

Norrington finally began to believe. "Only you, Sparrow, would rob your own grave," he murmured. "My God... it really is...?"

"Yep," Jack called down when the last ring finally came loose. "It's me. Now hold on one minute and let's see if I can't get into these pockets, eh?"

"Get down here, you idiot!"

"Not without my effects," Jack said grimly, stripping baubles and ornaments from his corpse until he was certain he had retrieved everything that mattered. "All right... now let's get on to that party, eh?"

* * *

TBC.

Next chapter is bizarro! Woo hoo. Leave me a review – we're fast approaching the end.


	37. Now: Will hosts several

Beckett helped her from the carriage after the short ride. She frowned. "The hospital?"

"Just follow me." The nun in the front hall was clearly not surprised to see Beckett; she led him upstairs and to the proper room without even needing to ask who he was visiting. Once she had gone away again, Beckett led Elizabeth to the bed. "Mercer has a proposition for you. I suggest you listen to him," he told her. He leaned down and breathed into Mercer's ear: "We were right – something's afoot tonight. I want to sort it out without _her_ in the way. Make something up, keep her busy here for as long as you can. Anything short of violence will be fine."

He straightened up and patted Elizabeth on the arm. "You two should discuss this alone." He gave her a short bow and backed out of the room. He could see the wheels already turning in Mercer's head and was sure he would think something up.

Beckett left and rushed back to the carriage and ordered it back to the party. They were halfway there when the carriage suddenly swerved and the driver gave a yell. A low snarl answered: "Don't move."

Just his luck - highway robbers! Tonight of all nights. Beckett put his head in his hands as the carriage door was wrenched open. Hopefully they would just take his valuables and go away - if they made off with the horses he'd have to walk all the way back to the Governor's mansion.

Then somebody climbed into the carriage with him, and it was definitely not an ordinary highway robber. "Where've ye taken Elizabeth?"

* * *

Will was lurking in the front hall alone while the guests all enjoyed themselves in the dining room. _Please, Jack, don't come yet, _he thought. _Wait til Elizabeth gets back. _He did not think he was capable of averting mass chaos on his own.

But the knock came, and Elizabeth was not back yet. _Bloody pirates. _Will took a deep breath and opened the door.

It was not Jack Sparrow. "'Ello, you!" rumbled a creature with its eyes on stalks like a crab. "Fancy meeting you here!"

Will went for his sword, but a hand that was much wetter and clingier than a hand ought to be caught his wrist and stopped him. "There's no need for that." The crowd of fish-people parted to let their leader through, and Will stared up in horror at Davy Jones himself, here, on the doorstep of the Governor's mansion. "This time," Jones continued softly, "Our quarrel is not with you. Let us in and no innocent blood will be shed."

It had been a while since he'd dealt with Davy Jones, but Will still knew better than to settle for that. "No _innocent _blood, hmm? Whose blood exactly do you plan to be shedding?" He shifted to block as much of the doorway as possible, even though he knew full well that Jones could push past him if he wanted to.

Twenty seconds of silence and hard eye contact later, Davy gave up trying to stare him into submission. "The laddie's all grown up," he laughed. "Very well - I'm looking for Jack Sparrow. I don't expect he'll miss this party... do you?"

They were still staring into each other's eyes and Will knew Davy had read the truth immediately, so there was no point in telling lies. "Jack isn't here now... but I would not be at all surprised if he put in an appearance tonight," he admitted.

"In that case you'd best let us in." Davy stepped forwards and Will backed up a little. "Even though we're not quite dressed for the occasion."

Once Davy shouldered through, snorting with swampy laughter, the others followed suit. Will panicked at the thought of how the women would react to seeing a dozen shellfish-encrusted monsters invading their party, so he grabbed Davy by the arm. "Look, you can't be in here. It will be chaos if everyone sees you. Come with me - into the Governor's study. You can wait there. I'll give you Jack if you promise you'll leave the rest of us alone."

Davy allowed himself to be ushered into the study. He and his crew made themselves at home there, and Will winced at the slime they were dripping on all the fancy furniture. He pointed out where the brandy was kept, lit them a few lamps, and then left the room.

Just after he closed the door behind him, a voice from the shadows _tsk_ed at him. "Now that is _no way _to treat a guest," Jack Sparrow complained in a whisper. "Are you really going to give me up to him?"

Will's jaw dropped. "Jack? How long have you-"

"Our moldy friends left the door open," Jack explained, "So I just brought the crew right in."

"You brought...?" Will looked around and realized that the front hall was now filled with pirates - _another _group of individuals that would make the female guests faint and scream. And they smelled even worse than the fishies. "All right this is not good. Jack... if Davy sees you it'll be a bloodbath. You have to get out of here. Go outside, get him to notice you through the window, and lead him away from the house."

Jack blinked. "You mean you want me to sacrifice my entire night of revelry just so you can clear this mob of bloodthirsty monsters out of your home?"

"Of course!"

They looked at each other with matching expressions of surprise. _He can't be serious._

They heard a crash from inside the study. "All right all _right_, I'll try to get rid of them for you," Will hissed. "But in the meantime you've all got to hide. Get everybody into the library. And be quiet!"

The library was directly across the hall from the study in which he had stashed the fish-people, so Will made the pirates tiptoe as quietly as they were able. He herded them all into the library and left, and no sooner had the door _click_ed shut behind him than the study door swung open right in his face.

Davy glared at him. "Well?"

Will backed up against the library door and held onto the doorknob with both hands so that Jack wouldn't be able to try to come out. He prayed that the pirates would stay quiet. "Well I was just coming to see you, Davy," he said. He could feel that his eyes had gone all wide and terrified, and tried squinting to even it out.

This looked so ridiculous that Davy cocked his head and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?! Ha ha no of course not," Will squeaked. He knew he had absolutely botched this and it terrified him.

A thud and a squeal and then some laughter issued forth from the library, and Davy's eyes shot at once to the door. "What's that?"

"A coupleoftheguests got drunk and they were fighting so I locked them inthelibrary that's all," Will said in a rush.

He could see that Davy was not buying it, but then they both heard the click of someone's heels in the hall and Governor Swann's voice calling, "William? Are you out here?"

So Will squeaked "_Hide!_" He leaped forward slammed the study door in Davy's face.

He leaned against the study door, both hands behind his back, clinging to the doorknob while Davy made growling attempts to turn it. Governor Swann came around the big staircase and caught sight of him and came over at once. "My dear William," he slurred happily. Will had never before seen him tipsy. Swann braced both his arms against the study door to give him something to lean against, effectively trapping Will in place.

"Young man, you simply can_not _hide all evening from the party!" he lectured, then hiccupped. "I know you were raised in the streets but that's no excuse not to suffer along with the rest of us! Now, button your collar up and we'll go back in there and be miserable and drunk like civilized men ought. If you don't make at least three insincere toasts tonight and compliment four or five hideous women, I shall want to know the reason why! Now, come."

Will was holding the study door shut, but just at that moment the door to the _library _creaked open. There, not three feet behind Governor Swann, was Jack Sparrow. Jack and Will made horrified eye contact over the Governor's shoulder, and then took action. Jack eased the door shut slowly, while Will grabbed Swann's collar to hold him still and started talking to cover the noise of the hinges. "Well yes Governor there are lots of hideous women here, I love hideous women too don't you?"

As soon as Jack was safely hidden again Will let go, and Swann gave him a very strange look before heading back into the party. Will groaned at the thought of what his father-in-law must think of him now, but he soon had much bigger problems.

Once they heard the footsteps die away and knew that the Governor was gone, Jack and Davy opened their respective doors at exactly the same moment.

They were suddenly face-to-face, and well within slaughtering distance.

Will dove for the ground to get out of the crossfire, while Davy lunged forward and Jack retreated into the library. Davy tried to follow him, but Jack slammed the door and caught several tentacles in it. Davy bellowed in pain and rage, and Will winced, realizing that this little problem was not going to be a secret for long. Already he could hear guests saying, "What's that?" ... and that was _before _Davy had one of his crewmen start pounding on the library with a mace.

* * *

Aye, Elizabeth was here in the hospital all right. Barbossa hadn't even reached the top of the stairs yet, and already he could hear her shrieking: "_Not one more word_!"

"I'm just saying," answered a weaker voice that Barbossa couldn't immediately identify, "That if you had allies, we'd be helping watch over him... and you'd rest easier, you would. Easier than if you had _enemies, _and had to keep wondering what they were getting up to and whether they know the tyke likes to play alone in the woods behind the church on Sundays."

A gasp. "How did you-"

"People are keeping a friendly eye is all. Don't you worry."

Barbossa finished the stairs and crept up to the door just in time to hear Elizabeth say, "I know I've warned you before that my son is not to be used as leverage. You are leaving me no choice."

Mercer laughed so hard he started coughing. "Pardon. It's a very select few would shoot a man in a hospital bed, love, and you're not one. Put it down. So, will you say yes tonight... or will you hold out until after something unfortunate happens?"

Judging it just about time to intervene, Barbossa put his hand to the doorknob and eased it open without creaking.

_

* * *

He's serious, she told herself, __so you can do it now, before he's given you cause, or you can wait until he ACTUALLY does something atrocious. Why let him? _she told herself, 

She raised her gun again and cocked it. Mercer was in his bed, far too far away to prevent anything-

But all of a sudden there was someone beside her, snatching her wrist and jerking the gun down. _Beckett, you're a dead man, _she thought. But when she turned she found herself face to face with not Beckett but Barbossa, and froze in confusion. What could the captain possibly be doing here? And why would he interfere?

"Let go of me," she hissed at last. He of all people should appreciate the occasional need to kill someone in cold blood! "Captain, _let go_."

He didn't let go. Instead, without ever taking his eyes from Elizabeth, he reached for his own gun and shot Mercer himself.

Afterwards he looked to make sure. _Dead, _he confirmed. Good. On a motionless target, anything else would have been simply embarrassing.

Elizabeth was staring at the body, looking horrified. Before Barbossa had time to finish properly congratulating himself on his sense of timing, the door burst open and a nun came in. "Heaven preserve us!" She covered her mouth with both hands and then whimpered, "What happened?"

Barbossa crossed the room calmly and put his smoking pistol in Mercer's dead hand. "Looks to me like one of your patients just finished commitin suicide," he explained. "Shame, isn't it?" He tipped his hat to her and steered Elizabeth out of the room.

They didn't exchange a word until he put her into the carriage and she tripped over something on the floor that felt suspiciously like a body. "What did you do?" she breathed in horror.

"Almost nuthin." He got in behind her and paused to feel the body for heartbeat. "Thought so - he's fine. It's your friend Beckett. I was askin him where he took you. It was embarrassing how fast he fainted."

It was silent for a bit and then she said, a little defiantly, "I _could _have done it, you know."

"So could I - and I won't be losin any sleep." He shrugged. "Let it be, miss. It's handled."

They rode the rest of the way to the party without speaking, but it was not a hostile silence. When they arrived he climbed down first and then offered a hand to help her.

She gasped and pointed over his shoulder. "Oh, no - look!"

He whipped around just as she was stepping down from the carriage, so she lost balance and knocked him over like a tidal wave of brocade and lace. "Get off, fool," he snarled, fighting his way free of the huge dress and trying to figure out what was happening.

There was obviously a battle royale going on inside the house. People were crashing through windows, screaming, bellowing, and firing guns. Flames were issuing forth from the dining room, and for a second Barbossa was ready to blame Jack until-

"That smell," Elizabeth said.

Barbossa sniffed and caught the stink of fish - and not the cooked kind. He got to his feet and finally managed to help Elizabeth to hers. "I can't breathe," she panted, holding her arms up. "Corset. Off."

He took half a second to leer at her and then sliced through the laces of her dress with a dagger. She jumped at the cold when he put the blade down the front of her bodice to tear it. Once he'd got it started, he held the knife in his teeth and used his hands to rip the dress the rest of the way open. Underneath was the corset, which he slashed off with one stroke. He pulled the whole mess down her arms and helped her step out of it.

It hadn't taken thirty seconds to get Elizabeth from full formalwear down to her shift. A voice from the carriage: "You've no idea what I would have given to do that."

That was the problem with knocking prisoners out instead of killing them - they frequently woke up again later to be an even bigger annoyance. Barbossa turned and rolled his eyes. "Shut up. Give her your sword." Beckett handed it over without further protest, and the first thing Elizabeth did was bash him on the head with it to put him to sleep again.

She kicked off her shoes and cracked her neck. "Let's go."

* * *

They ran up to the house together and went in through one of the broken windows. He was in his coat and the entry didn't bother him any, but Elizabeth cut herself on some of the glass. She made an annoyed little huff when she saw the blood on her brand-new white lace. "You'd best have my back from now on," she warned as they threw themselves at the nearest fish-people, "Or Will's going to kill you."

"Aye, and you'd best have mine," he warned right back, shooting her a grin that was a little sinister because of the chunky black blood that had been splattered over his face. "Because think how annoyed he'll be to see you cryin over me."

She rolled her eyes and ducked someone's spiny fist. "Come on - the worst of it's in there," she shouted over the noise of chopping and _Yarrr_-ing. "Let's go."

They headed for the dining room, where the flames was coming from, and found that the blaze was no accident. Someone had tilted the massive dinner table over to make a barricade, and had set fires in front of it to help keep the attacking monsters away from the dinner guests.

No prizes for guessing who. Inside the fiery wall were messes of wailing women and children and a few wailing men. Will was standing up on a chair with a torch, pointing. "Over there!" he shouted. "The fire's dying on the right - shore it up!"

One of the women went to see to it. Elizabeth cupped her hands to her face. "Will! What's happening?"

"Elizabeth!" He hopped down from his chair and came as close to the flames as he dared. "Jones showed up and scared me half to death and then Jack came, and Jones turned on him and they all started fighting. The pirates were in trouble, so Norrington took it into his head to make any military men in the room stand up and help. So Jones turned on us too."

"How bad is it?" she called.

Will shrugged. "Not very. It's remarkably hard to massacre civilians when people are looking out for them. Jack's people are fierce tonight and it turns out some of the men with wigs actually have a spine- oy - you!" He took aim and fired at a sharky invader that had gotten too close to the firewall.

"What should I do?"

"You should hurry," Barbossa muttered from behind her. It was exhausting to hold everyone off her while she chitchatted, and somebody had cut him in the face and he _hated _being cut in the face.

"Find Jones," Will said. "He's here somewhere. Strike a deal with him, Elizabeth. This is a pirates' feud and now innocent people are getting hurt. It has to stop."

"What- Strike a deal? You want me to give him Jack?" She could hardly believe it.

"If _you _wont, I'm sure Barbossa is willing to." Will backed up into his stronghold and gave some more orders about strengthening it.

* * *

TBC. I think this might be the first big battle scene I've written where each army is internally on the same page - we don't have allies fighting each other or people switching sides mid-fight or anything like that (So far. I'm still trying to resist having the soldiers turn on the pirates at the 11th hour.)

Smiley thanks to those who reviewed. To everybody else: yarrr! Write to me – I mean it!!


	38. Then: Jack gives Barbossa some booty

For the first 3/4 of this story, Barbossa had a great big hole in his tummy. Here's the story of when it first happened.

Post-accord, year nine.

* * *

Jack was fighting - and doing a wonderful job of it, thank you ever so much - when somebody grabbed his arm from behind.

He spun around all ready to poke a few holes, realized just in time that it was Barbossa, and lowered his blade. "Careful, mate - this is not the time to sneak up on me," he laughed.

"Jack..."

It occured to Jack then that his partner never, ever took time in the middle of a battle to come find him for just a chat. "Is something wrong?"

"Aye, I think so." Jack followed his gaze down and-

Jack never knew who finished up the battle or how. When his icy panic finally dissipated an hour later, he discovered himself in the cabin. He was trying without much success to tie on a bandage.

"Devil take ye, Jack, wouldya stop shakin!" Barbossa was snarling. "I'm the one shot! For God's sake hurry up..."

Jack mumbled that he was trying. He didn't complain about the threats regarding exactly where that rum bottle was going if he didn't hurry up and fetch it faster. He did everything he was told and eventually the blood was merely seeping instead of pouring. There didn't seem to be anything more to do. He sat down by the bed.

* * *

It was dusk before anybody broke the silence.

"Jack..."

"Right here."

Talking was slow and painful but he got out, "Jack... do you... remember-"

"Yes," Jack interrupted. Barbossa raised his head a little to shoot him a questioning look, and Jack shrugged and smiled. His eyes were far too shiny for the dim light. "Yes, I remember everything. Every last little thing, savvy?"

They sat and listened to Barbossa's labored breathing for a while, and then Jack said, "You know, I made sure never to tell you this, but I always-"

"I know," he said quickly before Jack could finish. Jack had just stopped him from making a fool of himself, and he thought it only fair to return the favor.

When Jack realized that Barbossa was still watching his back this late in the game, he lost it completely and had to leave the cabin.

Barbossa drifted to sleep trying to figure out what Jack had been about to say.

* * *

He woke up three days later. The first thing he noticed when he came to was that he was having serious trouble breathing. At first he thought that meant he was another inch closer to death, but when he felt the mysterious weight on his chest shift and sigh, he realized that the reason he was suffocating was that Jack had fallen asleep in the chair next to him and then slid sideways to be resting his entire upper body over Barbossa's diaphragm.

He tried to say, "_Arrr, _move, idiot," but all that came out was a hoarse growl. He tried to shove Jack off but only managed to shift weakly.

Still, it was enough. Jack woke up with a start and sat up bolt upright. "Whu? What? Oh- how are you? Say something."

"...killya..."

"Oh, thank God. _Thank God_ that's good." Jack held up a small bottle and uncorked it. "Drink. You've been asleep forever. We've been to Tia Dalma's. She worked some magic over you and said you should drink this if you came to. She didn't know if it would be enough..." He bit his lip, having meant to keep this bit a secret. "She said you might wake up maybe, well, only halfway. Sort of, you know..." _Like de cow _was how she'd put it, but Jack looked for more delicate terminology. "Sort of vacant. I'm glad you're all right because I don't know if I'd have been able to..." he decocked the pistol in his lap and put it on the floor.

Barbossa nodded. "I'm sure ye would manage, cons-... _mmnh, _considering you-"

"Yes, yes, I know, I shot you once already. Stop talking. Drink up."

Barbossa drank up but didn't feel any better. He waited half an hour and then decided that it wasn't a matter of waiting for the medicine to kick in - it was simply too late already.

He opened his eyes to tell Jack, but Jack seemed to know before he got words out. He took Barbossa's hand and looked away. "If there is _anything _I can do..."

"Thank ye, Jack." He waited til Jack met his eyes to whisper the rest: "Whatever you're wantin to hear me say... Figure I said it."

_How about that you're not dying, would you say that?_ Jack just nodded. "See you on the other side, mate."

"Aye." Barbossa closed his eyes. "Night, Jack."

"Gnight mate."

* * *

Nine hours later.

"Jack?" He felt Jack stir against him. "The other side feels a lot like the side I was sposed to be leavin... only worse. Tell me..."

"You're alive."

"Thought so." He struggled to sit up and didn't get very far. "S'intolerable, and it's lastin too long. Hurry it up for me, will ye?"

"Hurry it...?" The fact that he was still alive suggested that Tia's potion wasn't failing after all and there might be a chance. Jack swallowed and wondered how on earth to convince him not to ask- _Lightbulb_. Jack jumped to his feet. "First let me show you something." He ran to the dresser and fetched something out of a hidden compartment. "Here: remember this?"

Jack handed it over and it took an inordinate amount of effort for Barbossa to raise it to his face. He squinted. A heavy silver chain, a pendant... He frowned. "I used to wear this every day. I lost it."

"Yep." Jack couldn't keep the childish pride out of his voice. "Years ago. We were swimming out to sea, mate, and you were positive we were bloody done for. Remember that? You let go of _everything _you were wearing so it wouldn't weigh you down. This necklace, I felt it go - caught it on me foot."

"Y'kept it. Why?"

Jack elaborated for him. "Why didn't I sell it, you mean, considering it's finders keepers and I'm sure the thing's worth a pretty penny?" Barbossa nodded. "I kept it for just such a case as this," Jack explained softly. "I'm telling you you're _not _done for, and I was right last time, and so don't you dare give up now."

"Jack," he complained.

"I mean it, mate," Jack overrode firmly. "You'll have to fight some, but you can do this. I'm positive. Trust me."

Barbossa clenched his fist as a wave of pain rolled up out of his stomach. The pendant cut into his hand. Jack was staring at him expectantly and he finally glared and snarled, "Fine."

"You'll survive?"

"I'll survive." He passed out again soon afterwards, but this time Jack felt all right about letting go of him and sleeping in the chair - two whole feet away.

* * *

TBC.

btw, I think Jack may have been lying about his reasons for keeping that awesome pendant.

Anyhow.

We're looking at one or two more chapters with possibly an epilogue, and that's it. If there's something you're hoping to see, now would be the time to mention it!

I'm going away this weekend but will try to update on the road (plane).


	39. Now: Davy receives an invitation

Elizabeth found Davy climbing the main staircase in the hall in order to get at Jack... who was standing on the banister at the top, windmilling his arms for balance and trying to judge whether the chandelier was within jumping distance or not.

The staircase was clogged with a pack of people in their party clothes trying, at Norrington's drunken insistence, to block Davy's way. In the course of wading through them Davy was shoving them to one side or occasionally chucking them over the banister, and Elizabeth was glad to see that his sword remained in its sheath. Perhaps there was room for a peaceful resolution after all?

She remembered her own advice to Lord Beckett and squared her shoulders. "_Davy Jones_!" She had plenty of experience with the raging-mother tone and it did not fail her now - many heads turned, and his was one. "I am speaking to you! Now you put him down and you listen!"

Davy dropped the old man he was holding and turned back down the staircase. The crowd parted to let him through. "Well, well..."

Elizabeth stalked over to him and stopped just out of reach of his beard, which slithered eagerly in her direction. "This is my wedding reception," she told him a little more quietly, "And I don't appreciate your turning it into a battleground. What's going on?"

"I just want him." He jerked his head in Jack's direction and she tried not to wince at the squelching sound.

"Then what are your men doing harassing the women and children in there?" Elizabeth pointed towards the dining room. "Look, I don't want Jack hanging from my chandelier any more than you do, so if you call off your men- _creatures, _sorry - then I'm sure we can work something out."

Davy's eyes suddenly moved from Elizabeth to the space over her shoulder, and she whipped around to see what the matter was.

It was Barbossa, armed and infuriated. "I sincerely hope you're not proposin to let him make off with me partner," he growled.

Elizabeth said aloud, "You sell out Jack whenever it suits you, Captain - don't you dare criticize me for doing the same." Her back was to Davy, so she mouthed, _trust me._

But Barbossa shoved her aside anyway. "I've never crossed blades with ye, Davy, and I'm sure you'll give me a world of trouble... but I'm willin. There'll be no more talk of carryin off Jack without a fight."

"Here, here!" agreed a drunk voice from beneath a dogpile of Davy's crewmen.

Barbossa grinned. "Even the peacock says so."

Davy came forward and let his hand-tentacle coil around his sword. "Are you saying you would fight me?" He breathed a lot of fishy air in the pirate's direction but Barbossa didn't flinch. "You're old."

"Seasoned," he corrected.

Davy blinked. "And stubborn."

"Firm."

"Insane."

"Creative, shall we say," Barbossa countered without missing a beat. "I've told ye in plain English: you can't have Jack. Now, if steel be a language you understand a little better..."

It took Davy two tries because of all the crust and barnacles, but he finally drew his sword. "Then can we agree on this one?" he asked sweetly. "You're doomed."

Elizabeth thought it _had _to be a pose - who in his right mind would force a fight with an invincible and merciless monster? - but Barbossa didn't back down. He wiped his bloody blade on his sleeve and took off his hat. "Try me."

Davy gave him an incredulous snort and then went at it. He pressed the attack hard, wielding his massive sword with one hand so that he would be free to swing his claw around for an extra advantage.

Barbossa's cutlass was strictly a one-handed instrument, so as they fought their way past Elizabeth he reached out and snatched the knife from her bodice to feel little less outgunned.

Pirates and fish-people hovered around nervously, worried for their respective leaders, but everyone valued his own life too much to try and break up the duel. Elsewhere in the mansion, fighting all but stopped as people straggled in to watch. Davy and Barbossa raged up and down the hall, doing irreparable damage to the furniture and walls, bellowing loudly enough even to drown out the chant of _"Hec-tor, Hec-tor_..." that Jack had gotten started.

Barbossa was holding his own but Elizabeth knew it was only a matter of time, so as soon as there was a momentary break in the action she heaved a giant ceramic vase at Davy. It shattered against him and he stumbled sideways with the impact. While he shook his head to clear the fragments from his beard, for fairness's sake Elizabeth threw something at Barbossa, too. It was a much smaller object, a piece of plaster that had been hacked from the wall, and he ducked it easily.

They both turned to her and she prepared to let them have it. "Are you two _quite _finished!?"

Barbossa assumed a tone of childish defiance. "I'm not finished til _he _sees there be no handin over of Jack," he declared. "None, at all, under no circumstances whatever."

Davy looked from one to the other and tried to read them. Elizabeth, he decided, was hiding nothing. She seemed geniunely upset and confused; all she wanted was for her party to proceed without further injuries to any of her friends. Barbossa, though... he was a crafty one. He was putting on a show, and Davy wasn't sure for who, so he thought it best to address himself to Elizabeth only. "You realize these two live on a _ship,_" he reminded her, "in _my _ocean. I can probably take Jack any time I want."

"All the more reason to let it go for now, then," she said. "Please, Davy, not here. Not tonight. This is supposed to be a day of joy for me."

"I never did give you a wedding gift," he acknowledged after a moment. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "So perhaps I _could _be convinced to leave Sparrow be..."

"What do you want?" she asked, resigned.

Davy thought something up fast. Something she would believe, something that would appeal to her softer bits... "This is my one and only night on land for the next ten years," he said, doing his best to sound tragic. "I'll gladly forego Jack Sparrow if you can make it a trip I'll remember. You've already got a band and banquet set up..."

She could hardly believe it. "You want to stay for my _party_?"

"Precisely. And in exchange, I give you my word I won't touch these pirates or their filthy ship tonight. I'll give them... let's say a week?... before I come after them. Do you think that fair?"

After obtaining a wary nod from Barbossa, Elizabeth gave Davy a smile. "Davy Jones, I am thrilled that you'll honor me with your presence at my reception."

He smiled back and bowed. "And I appreciate the invitation with all my heart." He offered her his arm and they went off together to make sure all the fighting had been stopped.

Davy was amazed that anyone could still be so naive after years of associating with pirates. Did she really think he intended to watch these hateful pirates go free? Of_ course_, as promised, he wouldn't touch them. But they were pirates... outlaws... and if someone were to come in force and arrest them and haul them off to prison and then the gallows... well, that would hardly be Davy's fault, now, would it?

Someone with extensive experience dragging enemies off to prison at a moment's notice... Davy chuckled. Who knew Lord Beckett would come in so handy after all! All that remained was to send somebody off to him with a message, and then keep the pirates from leaving for a while (that shouldn't be difficult, not with an entire wine cellar yet to drain). And then Davy would get to watch as his enemies met their doom. It wouldn't be quite as satisfying as meting out the doom himself, but on the other hand he would get an evening of music and good company and crackling fireplace in return. Besides, the pirates had thrown Beckett at him as a distraction... how ironic that he got to use Beckett to undo them.

And he could put off handling Elizabeth's look of shock and hurt for another few hours. Perfect.

* * *

Aided by a few minutes of compulsory drinking and a change from classical music to pirate songs, Jack got the party started again. In the meantime, Will took charge of the wounded. 

Elizabeth, shaking after the near-disaster, sat alone on the grand staircase trying to calm herself down. She was there until somebody took her hand and tugged her to her feet. "Upstairs, missie. I told one of the maids to draw ye a bath."

Still dazed from the battle, she let him lead her up into the master bedroom. Only when he'd closed the door to shut out all the noise and chaos did she finally unwind enough to murmur "Thank you" and snuggle into him.

"Elizabeth, I came to talk strategy - I think Davy's up to something - but you take your time. Shh." He held her for a while without speaking, and then shifted and put a hand under her chin.

All he wanted was to see if she was crying or not, but when he tilted her head back she got the wrong idea and jerked away. "No."

Captain Barbossa did not like people to snap _no _at him as if he were a naughty puppy, and it thoroughly distracted him from his intention to plan out the pirates' escape. He gripped her jaw hard enough to be uncomfortable and drawled, "You'd best be takin that back, miss."

And that rubbed _her _the wrong way. "No," she repeated, defiant. "We're in my house and I'm not your crewman any more. You can't make me."

Pride kicked in. He changed tactics, dropped the threatening posture and brushed his lips against the side of her neck. He traced her collarbones with his finger and skimmed over her bare throat.

She was amazed at the sensations, and suddenly of the opinion that what she was wearing was not at all sufficient to parade around in public in. _As soon as he lets go I'm going to cover up, _she promised herself. She opened her eyes - when had she closed them? - and he was mere inches away. "Take it back," he breathed.

Try as she might she couldn't make herself say _no _again. It took everything she had just to shake her head.

He dropped the seductiveness from his manner all at once and heaved a loud sigh. "Very well, miss - I'm through bein nice." He turned and threw his hat and coat on the bed, but it wasn't until he picked her up that she thought to worry about what he had in mind.

* * *

The moment Will heard that Barbossa had disappeared with his wife, he started towards the stairs. He was just putting his foot on the first step when out of nowhere, Jack got him by the sleeve. "Ah-ah," he scolded. "Not very trusting, are we?" 

Will pulled himself free. "Let it be, Jack. If you think I'm going to let my wife upstairs alone with some _pirate, _then you don't remember me very well at all." He turned to go but Jack didn't release him.

"Think about it, mate," he urged. "Do you expect her to thank you for intruding?" Will hesitated another second, so Jack put an arm over his shoulders and started to pull him away. "Besides, look at it this way: you've been dead for a year. Either she's waited for you all that time - in which case she's not likely to lose her patience now, is she - or she's been living it up with every pirate she could get her hands on... in which case, what's one more night of it going to matter?"

Will's booze-flushed face got even redder with the slur on his beloved, but before he could think up an answer Jack pressed a bottle into his hand and said, a little more gently: "Let her have her goodbyes in private the way she wants it. Anyway you've got your own problems: there's a year of sobriety you've got to make up for. Get to it. Or I swear I'll hold you down and pour it in."

Will began to feel a little guilty, and instead of imagining some filthy unimaginably indecent pirate bedroom practices, began imagining chaste daughterly hugs and tearful goodbyes. _That's all it is, _he assured himself firmly, knocking his bottle against Jack's. He tried to drink what he was told to and tried not to picture what might be going on upstairs.

* * *

TBC. 

As you've probably guessed, there's some B/E next chapter. Predatory bits, fluffy bits. Nothing too objectionable, don't you worry.

It's all set to go. Should see it Thursday or thereabouts.

And I'm sorry about Davy! I try to make him warm and fuzzy, I really do, but I think he just doesn't have the necessary wetware. We'll see. I'm still not sure how he pans out.


	40. Now: Elizabeth gets some air

A/N: A while back there was a script floating around the net that was supposedly from the 3rd movie. If you're wondering where I snag the name of Davy's lost love from, that's where.

* * *

Will was playing cards with several elderly Port Royal ladies, charming them with his very best stories and smiles, when Jack lurched up to him and fell right into his lap. "C'mon mate! The team needs you!"

"The team?" Will echoed, bemused. He pushed Jack off onto the floor.

"Aye. We're undefeated as yet," Jack explained excitedly, "But next we're up against the bloody champs, Gibbs n Davy n a coupla his friends... Snot really fair, is it, they can drink like fish because they _are _mainly fish..."

Will's card partners giggled and he grinned at them. "Now, Jack, how could you expect me to exchange such lovely company for Gibbs and Davy?"

"Ooh, no, Mr. Turner, you _must _play!" one of the women insisted. "One can't let the pirates and the monsters win all the glory for themselves, now, can one?"

"Yes, you must absolutely go," another agreed. "Go on and make Port Royal proud. We'll promise to keep your seat for you." There was something a little too eager about her, and it made Will nervous. _Now what could they possibly want to get me drunk for? _he wondered. _But in any case the Governor was right - they certainly ARE hideous._

Jack sensed something similar - as he towed Will away towards the drinking game, he shuddered and said, "Yeesh. Best be on your guard with them, son." He tugged on Will's belt loop. "I've always found a length of chain with a padlock works wonders. After all I -_hic- _Whoops!" He stumbled into a low table, knocking a large flower arrangement to the floor and splashing everyone with the vase water. With a lot of noisy falling and hiccupping, he picked up one of the flowers and stuck it into the wig of a man sitting nearby. "There you go, milady, much apologies!"

"I beg your pardon!" the man sputtered, but Jack took no notice. Satisfied with the scene he had made, he dragged Will through a doorway and found a bit of privacy.

"All right, Will, I'm all set with a plan. Listen closely," he ordered, all trace of drunkenness gone from his voice and manner.

Will had to laugh. "Jack, you are amazing."

"I know." Jack lowered his voice and continued, "Now here's the plan: start drinking. That's right... yep... more, don't quit now."

Will coughed and took another swallow. "I fail to see how my becoming incapacitated is going to help us."

Jack grinned. "Drunk people are honest people, son. Just have another sip."

* * *

A bit later, Will lurched into the parlor looking for Davy Jones. He found him sitting by the fire in front of a card game, and he marched over and swept half the cards and glasses off the table in one sloppy gesture. "Davy we have to tttalk."

After a quick glance to the remnants of his card game, Davy folded his hands on the table. "You have my undivided attention, Mr. Turner."

The other players, most of whom knew that Will was a little volatile and very unaccustomed to being drunk, drew back.

Will squinted at him until the world straightened out. "You're holding some people on your sship. Who belong here."

"Ah." Davy nodded to one of his men, who rose from the table to give Will a seat. "And you want to play for them, is that it?"

Will sat and slapped his hand down on the table. "Yes it is," he declared, then started laughing. "You might be thbest Deception player in the world, Davy, but there's no way you can guess what I'm thinking tonight." He took one more sip and then put his bottle on the floor. "Even _I'm_ having a harttime of it."

"Too easy, it really is," Davy complained. "I won't let you play me by yourself. Where's Elizabeth?"

Will swallowed. "Upstairs. Stop looking at me."

Davy's smile was slow and very wide. "Upstairs... alone?" Will looked away and couldn't answer, so with a soft laugh Davy put a hand on his arm. "I understand," he soothed, savoring the hurt that Will was too tipsy to hide. The poor boy was open like a book and it delighted him. "Forget about her. Let's play."

Will pulled himself together. "Aright. Stakes?"

"Your soul, for your doctor and your Navy man."

"You're joking," Will snorted. "They're trifles to you! I've only just got my family back and I have my whole life a-_hic_-head of me, do you really think I'm going to stake all that against a couphle of your toys?"

"Fair enough." Davy thought it funny that even when Will was too drunk to speak or think straight, his internal scales of justice functioned perfectly. "How long have you been dead?"

"He's joking," Will assured the people around them. He turned back to Davy. "About a year. Why?"

"So during that fire, you threw away _a year _of your pretty little wife and son to play hero. Are you willing to do it again?"

Will's stomach dropped and he tried to make himself think clearly. A year. Was he actually willing to risk hundreds of miserable days and nights on the _Flying Dutchman _to help two people he hardly cared about? _You're talking about a man who saved Elizabeth's life, _Will reminded himself. _You can't say no. _"I won't play you head to head, Davy," he said at last, "But if we find a third player... thenitss agreed."

Davy was scanning the room for possible candidates when a small hand tapped him on the shoulder. "I'll play."

Willie ignored his father's choked protests and sat down. "Captain Barbossa says I play far better than you, Papa," he explained, "So if you're not afraid, then I'm not either. Let's go." He slapped a handful of dice down on the table and looked from Will to Davy expectantly.

Davy's beard coiled up in agitation. "Where did you get those?"

Willie followed his gaze. "The dice? They're mine," he lied.

"Try again."

He hated to admit to robbing the treasure trove again, but… "They're my mother's."

"No. Third time lucky."

Willie took another look at the crusty pieces, and then at the set Davy was holding. "Oh... they're yours?"

"Aye. They _were_ mine... but I suppose your mother stole them fair and square."

Will shifted forward to try and get in Davy's line of vision. "You are _not _going to ask my son to serve on the _Dutchman."_

Davy thought about it, without taking his eyes from Willie, and then decided: "You won't have to risk service on my ship."

"Then what can I bet?"

Davy sat up straight. _Plurrp. _"I want your firstborn." He ignored the gasps of horror around him to savor the look on the boy's face before clarifying: "There are more than enough William Turners in the world already. If you lose this game, then your son will be named after _me_ instead." As he'd expected, the suggestion rubbed Will decidedly the wrong way – people had to restrain him from throwing himself across the table.

Willie tried not to register his father's reaction, and thought it over for himself. "What if it's a girl?" he asked at last. "What's your favorite girl's name?"

The question caught Davy by surprise. After a bit he answered, "Calypso. You could call her Calypso."

"Calypso." Willie cocked his head and tested out the sound. "All right." He put his dice in a cup and rattled them around. "Who goes first?"

Will tried one last time to put his foot down. "Willie, _no_."

Davy laughed. "If he wants to make a deal with me, Turner, it's hardly your business. Now, do you want to play or not?" He handed Will a set of red dice and watched him carefully.

It didn't take Will two seconds to realize, "These were my father's." He closed his fist around them. "Since the policy appears to be _steal Davy's dice after you play with them_, then I guess I'm keeping them."

"Good idea," Davy agreed, "They'll come in handy for you on the _Dutchman _this year."

Will burped, then yawned. "You don't scare me."

"I don't believe you."

"You're not supposed to," said Will with a little laugh, then let his face go serious. "This _is _Deception, after all." He drained one of the cups on the table and dropped his dice in.

* * *

Elizabeth couldn't remember the last time she had been thrown over someone's shoulder and physically carried off. "No! Put me _down! _I mean it!" she hissed - but quietly, because she knew how bad this would look if anyone were to walk in on them.

Barbossa ignored her. He carried her straight into the bathroom and dumped her into the tub.

Elizabeth erupted back out of the water, sputtering incoherently with rage. "I- I can't believe you!" she came up with at last. "How dare you! In my _clothes_!"

"Y'call _that_ 'clothes'?"

She looked down and deemed it necessary to cross her arms. Furious, she thought around for a way to wipe that evil smirk off his face and came up with the obvious one: she jumped to her feet, grabbed him, and yanked him down into the tub on top of her.

Now she was sitting pinned with an angry pirate straddling her legs, but she had soaked him to the bone and it was worth it. "How do _you _like it?" she demanded, splashing him for good measure. "Now get off."

"No," he chuckled. "Now how d'you like _that_? Oh, and fair warning: any second now I'm going to punish you for dunkin me." He said it smoothly, almost purring, calm enough that it took her half a second too long to actually register the words. _Oh no he's_-

But before she could react, he pounced on her and pushed her underwater all the way.

She managed not to panic and snort in water immediately, but as she struggled against the warm hard floor of the tub the thought hit her that perhaps she ought to panic after all. _Let me up he's not letting me up no I can't breathe I-_

All of a sudden something pressing at her lips, prying her mouth open, and she felt the curious sensation of her lungs filling with air even though she wasn't inhaling. The second time it happened, she understood: he was breathing for her. At first she resolved to kill him as soon as he let her up, but then decided perhaps she could get an even earlier start on it: the next time he offered her a lungful of air she sucked him dry and then grabbed him around the neck to hold him underwater.

At first he fought to dislodge her, but when that didn't work right away, he went for her mouth instead to try and get some of his air back. They battled back and forth over it for a few moments longer, and then finally both let go and broke the surface.

They sat in the tub panting and watching each other warily. Finally Elizabeth calmed down enough to notice: "Your lip's bleeding."

He licked it and shrugged. "Yes well you bit me," he said, a little snide. "What did you expect was going to happen?"

He had relaxed a little, and she followed suit. "I'm not sorry," she sulked, splashing him. "That's a rotten way to steal a kiss."

Despite his looking something like a drowned dog, Barbossa's eyes were gleaming. "Perhaps ye know a better one?"

She judged it time to hop out of the tub before he got any more ideas.

* * *

By the time they had dried up and got dressed again (him rifling through the Governor's closet to find a shirt and pants that suited him,) Elizabeth had forgotten her determination to keep her distance. She noticed that the clasp of his necklace had wandered down to the front during their tussle, so she stepped up to fix it and then adjusted his collar.

He endured all the fussing without pointing out that he was quite old enough to button his own buttons. He didn't even snap at her when she asked, dabbing at a spot on his cheek, "Is this it, or did Davy hurt you?"

"That was one of the fish-things with prickles. Davy didn't come close."

She touched the goose egg on his forehead and tried not to smile. "Except for this."

He growled at her and then admitted, "Clubbed me with that infernal pincer of his. No matter, that's what a hat is for." He put his hat on, and sure enough looked good as new again.

They stood in silence for a bit. _We're sailing tonight - say something, _he ordered himself. "Jack's right: it's a shame to see you go," he told her. "We'll miss ye, the both of us."

"The both of us?" she echoed, but didn't dare tease him further than that. Despite her father's clothes lurking somewhere under that mess, Barbossa was every inch the pirate captain tonight, looking even more arrogant and fierce than usual. "I'll miss you too," she said finally.

He moved one hand to her waist and one to the back of her neck. Elizabeth experienced half a second of alarm, then thought _Oh for Heaven's sake why not. _She took his hat off and draped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

It was a long tonguey kiss, a little gentler than she had expected but certainly, compared to Will-

For a moment she was shocked at herself. _Thinking of Will at a time like this? I must be really in love… _But then she revised that thought and added: _or really an idiot. _Because this kiss was absolutely worth paying attention to. It was deep and breathtaking enough even while they stood, but then he surprised her by forcing her back a step so that she knocked into the bed and fell backwards onto it. He had expected that, smoothly following her down without even needing to take his mouth from hers. He settled down beside her and kept going. After a while he moved off her lips so that he could kiss her throat. She gasped _oh_, arching for him, and he realized at once that it was just about stoppin time. He sat up off her and she sat up too, eyes glazed over. She leaned a little closer but he shoved her away.

"Quit playin," he growled. "You're no child this time and ye can't pretend innocence."

"I- I'm sorry," she said at once, feeling her cheeks flame up. "I wasn't- I mean I didn't mean-"

He believed her. "It's all right, missie, I know. Here – get up." He stood and pulled her to her feet, but misjudged and yanked her too hard, so that she came crashing into his arms.

"Stop it," she giggled unsteadily, forgetting how unwise it was to give him orders. "No more kissing."

He grabbed her by the hair. She squeaked with surprise and he laughed into her mouth. "You still need remindin after all this time?" he purred. He pressed his lips to hers briefly and then they whispered it at the same time: "_Pirate_."

When they broke apart she _hmmph_ed and demanded, "Have you got any other outrages you need to commit on me, or will that be all?"

"In point of fact, missie, there be one thing more." He tilted her head sideways, put his lips to her neck and sucked hard enough to leave her a little bruise. _Heh heh: marked, _he congratulated himself. _Hector was here._

Her hand shot to her neck as soon as he let her go. "Kraken."

He smirked and headed for the door.

"Captain wait!" she called after him. "You know, this could be it. So let me, I just- no _don't _you say a word, if I want to be a girl about this and start crying you are _not _going to interfere with me!" He closed his mouth and she let everything out in one long unintelligible sentence. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me and I'll miss you and this had better not be goodbye forever because I've never forgotten you and you've changed me my God I'm almost saying I care for you but how about this instead: it was completely awful to see you hurt and if you don't take care of yourself, I'm going to kill you. And don't think I can't - you taught me how. So"

Barbossa winced. "Aright. You know you're always welcome aboard the _Pearl,_" he answered quickly._ "_Enjoy the husband and I do hope we cross paths again. Evenin, miss."

He made it all the way to his hand on the doorknob before he changed his mind. _If ye can stand and fight Davy Jones, _he scolded himself, _ye will NOT run in fear from a cryin girl. _He sighed and, still facing away, revised his farewell. "I thank ye for all the care, Elizabeth," he told her quietly. "And I hope you know better than to believe anything a pirate tells you after he's had his hands all over ye, so I won't bother with the _I love you_'s m'self. Just I wish you luck, and I'll be keepin an eye on you. Now, downstairs we go, afore that husband of yours takes it into his head to come up after us."

She followed him out the door, trying to memorize the words exactly so that she could decode them later when her head was a little clearer.

* * *

The Deception game was intense. The first time they slammed their cups down and peeked beneath, Davy smiled and offered, "Let the tyke start."

"If you're going to call me names, I bet I can think of a lot better names to call _you,_" Willie answered. "Three twos."

Davy laughed a little. "Fair enough. _Four_ twos."

Will's stomach was churning, and he had a sudden urge to up the bid to something outrageous, just to prove to himself that he wasn't actually afraid. _All right, that's a terrible idea, _he realized just in time. He took a breath. He had two fours and no twos, so he thought it best to make a comparatively safe bet of "Four fours."

"Four fives," Willie answered straight away, with confidence.

Davy looked into his eyes and believed him, and just for fun hissed out the next bit of a sequence Will would recognize. "Seven fives."

Will didn't disappoint him. "Just like old times," he said with a boozy giggle.

"If it was just like old times, I'd win the father and then the son would have to cut his throat," Davy reminded. "So for your sake, let's hope things have changed just a little, hmm? Your bid, Turner."

Will bit his lip. Eight somethings. Eight of what (eight wine bottles, perhaps, and that wasn't helping)? Reading Davy was out of the question, but maybe he could figure out what his son was holding. Willie _said _he had fives. His instinct was always to tell the truth... and _Davy Jones _believed him for heaven's sake. So it had to be true. There were probably plenty of fives on the board. Will nodded. "Eight fives."

"Sorry, Father." Willie reached over and took the cup off the red dice. "I don't think so."

Will didn't have any fives and Davy had four. Willie moved his own cup aside last and smirked as his sixes and fours were revealed. "Told you."

Will was speechless. _My son is a liar, _he told himself. It was only a game but still. He did it so well...

Davy snorted. "No forfeit - where's the fun in that? Let's play again."

They rolled.

Willie had been taught that it was a bad idea to start off truthful - a perceptive opponent would catch your nervousness when you switched over from truth to lies, but if you'd been lying the whole time then there would be nothing to give you away. So he started out with a lie. "Two sixes."

Davy chuckled. "You're lucky I have sixes myself, boy, or I would have called you out right there. Four twos."

"I don't believe you have sixes," Will said, "But _I _do. Four sixes."

_Papa does not have sixes, _Willie realized suddenly. _He has a lot of twos. He let Davy's bid go without even thinking about calling it._

Willie was now morally certain that _nobody _had sixes, and he'd already opened his mouth to call his father a liar when it occurred to him that everybody was watching and it was probably really embarrassing to lose to a child twice in a row. So he hesitated and then didn't call the bluff. "Five twos."

Davy laughed. "You don't believe him any more than I do. Bad policy, son, it'll burn you." He reached over and flipped the cups one after the other. Sure enough, Will had four twos... and there were no other twos on the board.

"So now you'll have a grandson by the name of Davy Jones Turner." When Davy said the name Will put his head in his hands and groaned, but Willie really didn't see what was so awful about it. Pronounced in that singsongy way, especially with that brogue, it sounded fine.

Anyway, there were still prisoners to win. "Fine, I lose. Now can we play again?"

Davy's beard was dancing around with a peculiar and revolting sort of joy. "How about this," he proposed. "Pour Will is obviously out of his depth. But you show promise. I want to play you alone. The wager is a year... and I _know_," he overrode the interruption, "You're too young to sail just now. So if you lose, I'll allow your father to serve for you. Agreed?"

The bet was obviously calculated to make his entire family miserable, but with lives at stake, Will didn't see that there was much choice. "Aright no objections from me," he slurred. "I'm probably safer in Willie's hands than in mine anyway. He'll play. -_Hic-. _Providing you release the hostages whether or not he wins."

Davy agreed to the terms, because he didn't really care about his prisoners one way or the other. The whole fun would be tearing father and son apart by winning and then watching them fight and cry over who got taken and who was spared. Maybe they would want to play again, for double or nothing. _By the end of the night I'll own them both for half a century, _he promised himself.

He was having such a good time he didn't even notice that Jack had quietly collected all the pirates and disappeared.

* * *

TBC.

I'm so sad, it's almost over. We still have a chapter or so to find out whose plans worked and who is screwed. I'll give you a hint: Barbie is going to have to get away clean – I like him too much!


	41. Later: Spring Break with the Turners

A/N: iamanundeadmonkey, you read my mind. This is the story of the next time Elizabeth sets foot on the _Pearl._

JeanieBeanie33, a-k-a amber, mrspatrickdempsey: I am trying so unbelievably hard not to write any more PotC after this story for a while. I don't know how well that's going to work out though; I have a supercraving for pirates and until the movie comes out, fanfic is all I got. So it's likely I'll write something else soon. Maybe a sequel, maybe not, but something.

Credit where it's due and all that: In this chapter I definitely rob a line from my story _Your Bloody Friend Norrington._

Apologies, apologies: this is goofy.

* * *

Annabelle was born nine months after Will came home. She was born with bright blue eyes. 

Nobody mentioned it until half a year later. Will and Elizabeth were sitting together after dinner and he said, "She had a mark on her arm today."

Elizabeth laughed. "I noticed that this morning too. Somebody left a toy in her crib and she slept on it. Worrying already? Darling, she doesn't even leave the house yet… imagine what'll happen when she starts running amok with the boys her age the way I used to do…"

"I know. Thank God she doesn't have eyes like yours, at least," Will whispered, "Because I know what they do to men and I wouldn't get a moment's peace for worrying about her."

He had meant it as a compliment to his wife, but she drew back. "If you have something to say about Annabelle, just say it," she told him sharply.

"Something to say?" he repeated, mystified at her sudden bad mood. "Elizabeth, what's wrong? Really," he pressed when she didn't answer, "Since when am _I_ the reasonable one while _you _behave like a child, hmm?"

"You're right, Will, I'm sorry." She took a breath. "I just… I've been on edge because I've wanted to ask: I was thinking I'd like to go and see the _Pearl _sometime soon. But only if it's all right with you."

"All right with me," he repeated. Elizabeth's unease about Annabelle's eyes finally made sense, and the question he had never even allowed himself to consider surfaced in a powerful rush. "I assume," he said quietly, "That if there was anything I should know about the baby and the _Pearl, _you would have told me by now. Right? Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth wasn't sure she would have found the courage, but fortunately she was fairly certain there was nothing to tell. She shook her head. "Of course. I just didn't want you to _think_ anything wasn't as it should be."

He stood and went around the table and stood behind her chair. "Much as I might wish it were otherwise," he said, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, "I think your visiting the _Pearl _every now and again is _exactly_ as it should be."

* * *

Unwilling to part company with either his wife or his daughter, Will finally decided that the trip would be undertaken by the entire family. He asked a few questions of some unsavory characters, and without much trouble they caught the _Pearl _at Tortuga and were welcomed aboard. 

When it became clear that Elizabeth was going to monopolize Barbossa and make him coo over the baby like everybody else, Willie climbed aloft to sulk. Jack climbed up after him to try and cheer him up.

Will tried not to worry about what they were getting up to, and went to see to the wheel (none of the crew had moved to take charge of it in Jack's absence). "Pirates," he muttered. "We could be sailing to bloody Africa for all anybody on this ship knows or cares."

While Elizabeth was staring out to sea and enjoying the wind, Barbossa was balancing Annabelle on his lap, holding her under her arms as she tried to stand. She was giggling at him and drooling contentedly on the sleeves of his coat.

All of a sudden the horseplay in the rigging got a little heated and someone fell down and crashed to the deck. The noise made Barbossa whip around violently. He barely had time to register that it was just Jack and Jack was fine, before the creature on his lap interrupted him with a set of the most awful bloodcurdling shrieks he had ever heard (and given his long career of butchery, that was saying a lot).

Barbossa turned back to her to see what could possibly be the matter. It wasn't hard to tell – a big bright stream of blood was coursing down the baby's face. His flash of concern faded as soon as he traced the bleeding to a very minor nick on her scalp, but he still was puzzled as to where the wound had come from.

Anabelle knew. Still wailing, slapping one hand against her injured head, the baby reached out and grabbed at Barbossa's massive earring. On the second try her little fist closed around it, and she jerked down, tearing it straight through his earlobe.

He leaped to his feet, bellowing loudly enough to drown out the baby's cries.

Of course the commotion brought Elizabeth out of her reverie at once. "What on earth is going on here?" she demanded over all the noise.

Barbossa was holding onto his bleeding ear with one hand and the baby with the other. "Look at this," he growled, showing Elizabeth, "Look what she did!" He found that the baby, when held by a fistful of the back of her shirt, made a convenient gesturing tool. "Your daughter, missie, is a savage."

Elizabeth took a look at the 'savage.' Wearing an aggrieved, enraged expression nearly identical to Barbossa's, the baby went through much the same explanation: "Waawrru wrlllll!" Annabelle slapped herself in the head a few times, smearing blood everywhere, then turned her attention to the earring in her fist and waved it around in exactly the same way the pirate was waving _her_. "Wrrr. Raa-haa-ahaa! Waaaa!"

As soon as she could stop laughing Elizabeth took the baby off his hands and pretended to scold. "You, sir, are growing careless. To be taken by surprise by a child who can't even pronounce her own name! I shudder to think what a _grown _enemy would do to you. My goodness."

"Yes well I've always had a weakness where pretty girls are concerned," he admitted grouchily, fishing out a rag to hold to his head. "No matter, I'm sure she'll grow up to be as annoyin as her mama, and then I'll have no trouble throwin _her _overboard, too."

"You threw Mama overboard?" called a voice from the rigging. Willie was dangling upside down, watching them through a spyglass.

"Willie, get down from there!" Elizabeth shouted half-heartedly. "And no – he only made me walk the plank. Here, Captain: hold her." She settled Annabelle back on his lap so her hands would be free to fuss over his ear. "If you ever want to wear that thing again it's going to have to be on the other side. This is a real mess."

Annabelle had stopped crying and was now pulling determinedly on Barbossa's necklace. "She's either tryin to rob me, or strangle me," he observed. He shook her lightly. "Watch it, missie, or I'll cut your nose off."

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, give up – you're not half so intimidating with a child on your lap. There, good as new. Aside from being in pieces and all."

Willie had climbed down and come to see the trouble up close. "Euew."

Barbossa handed the baby to its mother and stood up. "I spose that's why God gave us two ears. Do ye still want that earring, boy? I'll do yours if you'll do mine."

"Oh, absolutely!"

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "Absolutely _not_! Nothing's changed in the last year, Willie – there will still be _no _earring. What will people say?"

"This from a girl wears the pirate brand," Barbossa chuckled. He strode off towards the cabin to hunt up a needle. Willie followed.

Elizabeth watched them go, fuming, and was startled by a hand on her shoulder. "Quite a handful, eh?" Jack asked with a lot of fake sympathy. "You know, Lizzie, one thing I've always found helps with the stress of parenthood is a nice, long, relaxing, _massage_. I happen to be an extremely skilled _massageur_…" She tried not to roll her eyes at the pronunciation. Or at the idea that Jack would try and seduce her in broad daylight right in front of Will.

"Oh, certainly. Let me just go tell my _husband _and see if I can get him to hold my _baby _in the meantime, and then I'm all for it."

"Wonderful!"

He clapped his hands delightedly and she groaned. She was just about to think that the day couldn't possibly get more bizarre, when a deafening shriek issued forth from the cabin. She shoved the baby into Jack's arms and went to go check on her son. "_OW! LIAR!_" Willie shouted."The rum does _not _make it feel better!"

Will abandoned his post at the wheel to come check things out too. "What the devil is going on in there?" he asked Elizabeth as they raced for the door.

"It wasn't my idea-" she began.

"_RARRRRR_!" Barbossa's turn to bellow. "Hurry up!"

"I can't," Willie's voice had shrilled up in panic. "I can't, it's stuck!"

"I told ye the flame was a bad idea, now look what-"

Elizabeth and Will poked their heads in. "Is everything all right?" she asked innocently, determined not to say _I told you so_.

Willie showed them Barbossa's half-finished ear piercing. The heated needle had gotten stuck partway in, so Will shoved it through with entirely more force than was necessary. "Mm, thank ye." Barbossa hung his beloved earring back in place and then shook his head to get used to it dangling on the wrong side.

Will watched his son taking similar steps with _his _earring, and sighed. "Captain, you're like the fairy godfather from Hell."

"Spose I'll take that as a compliment. Getting her peacock out of the picture, bringin you back from the dead… God c'n hardly imagine what trouble I'll think up next."

"Hey!" Jack burst into the cabin on that last line, sounding injured. "That's what people are supposed to say about _me_!"

Will frowned. "Jack, if you're here… then where's the baby, and who is minding the wheel?"

Elizabeth read his expression without difficulty. "Please don't tell me you somehow have the _baby _minding the wheel?"

Jack nodded proudly.

They all scrambled outside to set things right.

And it was still only the first morning.

* * *

TBC. 

Yes, I know, incredibly goofy. Guilty as charged.

And although I loathe the idea of deliberate self-insertion in a fic, I have a confession to make: I actually did this to somebody when I was a baby. Go me!


	42. Barbossa says goodbye

A/N: Boo hoo, this is the last chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

"Six sixes." 

With those two little words, the game that had been going so well suddenly morphed into a nightmare. Willie was trapped. Davy had a whole mess of sixes, he was sure of it, and he himself had two. He thought there were probably just enough to back Davy's guess - calling liar wouldn't work, but neither would upping the bid. He stared at the cups, stuck.

"Well?" Davy pressed, impatient. "It's your turn."

"I know," Willie snapped back. "Let me be - you can take as long as you want to make a decision, that's the rules." Scraping for every possible advantage, he added, "What's the rush? Jack says when people hurry, it means they're either desperate or afraid. I bet you're afraid."

An annoyed squelchy noise issued forth from his beard, and Davy had to raise his voice to be heard over it. "Oh, that's what dear old _Jack _says, is it?" His eyes darted around the room. "It's just too bad Jack isn't here to witness his little friend-" All of a sudden it struck him that there was not a pirate in sight. He leaped out of his seat, knocking the table over and spilling dice everywhere. "_WHERE ARE THEY_?"

Willie jumped up too. "You lose! Ha! You knocked the game over! I win, I win! I win!"

Even in the face of this most overpowering and blinding rage, Davy didn't lose his head completely. "Go bring the boy his prize," he spat to one of his crustier lieutenants. Nobody would ever accuse him of cheating or welching on a bet, not ever. "And the rest of you, go and tear this city apart brick by brick until you find them!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Will hissed at him, lurching to his feet and taking Davy by the shoulders. "You promised you would let the pirates go!"

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over his head. Davy froze, blinked, mouth wide open. "Aye - I'd forgotten." His voice dropped back to a normal volume. "My apologies, Turner, it's just..."

"Yes, Jack does have that -_hic-_effect on people, doesn't he." Will steered him out into the hallway for a little quiet. "Just be happy you're through seeing him for tonight, right? Calm down."

Davy was about to answer, but his attention was caught by the creaking of someone at the top of the stairs. He squinted up, but considering Jack had extinguished most of the chandelier earlier by jumping on it, he could only make out the hem of someone's dress. "Elizabeth?" he called.

She froze and then came partway down the stairs, slowly and reluctantly. "Evening, lass. Where have you been?"

"I... nowhere." A few more steps and then, "I was taking a bath. As if it's any of your business anyway."

"A bath. I'll bet you were," he chuckled. "Now I wonder what could have made you need a bath?"

"Davy, leave her be," Will put in, but Elizabeth didn't appear to need his help.

"I needed a bath because I was _fighting_!" she yelled at him. "Because _your _people decided to run amok in my father's house! This is supposed to be my wedding reception and now I've spent it all tired and hurt and bloody!"

"Well, then I suppose you should've told him to be a little gentler with you."

Will moved forward, but Elizabeth shot him a _Look _and he didn't throw a punch. Instead he just told Davy through gritted teeth, "Look, why don't you go enjoy dry land while you have it - take a walk or something, clear your head, before you provoke somebody beyond endurance and another fight breaks out."

Davy thought it over, looking out a window into the peaceful and crickety night. "A good idea. I'll leave the happy couple some time alone. I'll be back."

Will showed him out, closed the door behind him, and then made a beeline for Elizabeth. "Is Barbossa still up there with you?" he hissed urgently.

"I-I... I don't know what, I've no idea what you mean, I was..."

He very rarely managed to fluster Elizabeth this badly, and he found her stammering adorable. "Elizabeth! I'm not sixteen anymore," he interrupted with a little laugh. He took both her hands and kissed them. "Just tell me - I have to find him. Jack has a plan."

The tension went out of her and she giggled, too. "Jack has a plan? I shudder to think. _Yes,_" she sighed, "Barbossa's up there. We were just on our way down when we heard that ruckus with Davy, and I thought he should lay low until it was sorted out. Will..."

He nodded. "All right, I'm going to go explain to him what's going on. You stay down here, and if anybody asks, you haven't seen a single pirate in the last hour. Clear?"

"Perfectly. Will..." she made a grab for his sleeve as he went up the stairs. He lost his balance and caught himself and turned to her. "Nothing-... All right, it would be a lie to say _nothing _happened, but it was _almost_ nothing, so please..."

He came back down so that they were eye level. "Elizabeth, I'll admit I didn't like when you disappeared together, but you know what? I realized that now of all times it's silly of me to worry. Because _he had you. _Or rather, you had him, but instead you went to World's End to find _me_. And he took you. So if there's ever an opportune moment for jealousy..."

"This isn't it," she agreed. She kissed him on the cheek and thought the conversation was over, until he suddenly poked at the bruise on her neck (drunk enough to miss it by an inch and a half).

"Although I warn you I will be replacing that with a much larger one of my own as soon as all the guests are gone."

"Will!"

* * *

When Davy returned from his walk he felt much better and was ready to leave Port Royal peacefully. He even asked Elizabeth for a dance before he went. (It turned out he was a pretty good dancer despite the peg leg.) 

On his way out he sighed and took her hand, and she thought he was gearing up for a mushy sort of goodbye. "I may not see you again after it happens, so let me tell you this in advance," he began quietly. "I'm very sorry about the loss of your pirates. You'd be proud of them; they all died very bravely. Except Jack – he cried when I-"

"Oh, very funny," she snapped. "You don't really think you're ever going to get them, do you?"

He shrugged. "_Ever _is a long time… and I've got nothing if not time and patience."

She shook her head at him, feeling strangely disappointed, and sorry enough for him that she didn't answer, _Yes, exactly – you've got nothing._ Instead she just gave him a goodbye hug… and told him to take care of himself because no one else would.

* * *

Will waited ten minutes, until he was sure that the _Dutchman_'s crew was gone for good, and then went down the wine cellar. "Jack? Jack, you all can come out now… oh, dear, that was the Governor's best red… All right, sit him up and take the bottle out of his mouth… not necessarily in that order… Jack?" He slapped Jack's cheek lightly. 

Jack slapped him right back. "'Ello love," he mumbled. "Fancy meeting you here!" He got to his feet and straightened out his hat. "Take a couple of these bottles upstairs," he ordered his crew, "And let's get back to business!"

He tripped and knocked a whole rack of wine to the floor. Will listened to the glass shattering and tried not to wish he had handed over the pirates when he had the chance.

* * *

Jack felt a little sick in the morning. Part of it was the wine, most was the realization that he had passed out cold on the floor of the Governor's mansion and had no idea whether he was going to be able to escape to his ship again, and just a little was the discovery that Will had very nearly gambled away his soul in a drunken frenzy last night. 

"You're an idiot, mate," Jack said without taking his head off the deliciously cool marble floor. "I just wanted you to distract him."

"You fed me rum and reminded me that Jones was holding innocent people hostage. You told me to sort it out," Will reminded him. "Of course I played dice with him, what did you expect me to do?"

"I thought you'd probably fight him or something. No matter. Where's Barbossa? Where's my crew?"

Will resisted the urge to kick him. "Your crew is scattered around you, you lunatic, open your eyes and see! Barbossa is upstairs, sleeping it off in the Governor's bed. Maybe you can go wake him up; the Governor hasn't dared."

Jack sat up slowly. He was lying on the floor underneath the chandelier, and that reminded him... "How's Norrington?"

Will helped him to his feet. "For a man who fell twenty feet onto a marble floor, he's doing wonderfully. Dr. Bailey already set his leg, and says it's going to heal fine. Norrington was so happy to see Gilette again he hardly cared. Jack - whoa, careful - why did you make him try and jump?"

"He didn't _have _to jump," Jack argued. "It's called Drink or Dare for a reason. If he didn't dare go for the chandelier, he should have just finished the bottle."

Will's stomach turned at the mere _thought _of more alcohol. "Right." He waited til the sickness passed, then said, "And now we're getting you people out of here. As soon as humanly possible."

* * *

Jack thought up a simple escape: he and his crew would dress all in black and pretend to be a funeral procession as they walked through town. He doubted anyone would think to question them or even look at them too closely, and besides, it had the added benefit of allowing him to dress up like a priest. Fun of the highest order. 

Elizabeth and her son insisted on accompanying them to say goodbye, and Will, out of a desire to see with his own eyes that the pirates were actually gone, went also.

After a round of hugs and handshakes the pirates began to board. The captains went last, and it was only when Barbossa had already turned his back that Willie finally got up the nerve to speak. "Captain?" He got barely a grunt of acknowledgment in response. "Um. I'm... err... really going to miss you..."

"Mmm." Barbossa kept going, but Jack stopped him at the top of the gangplank.

"Come on, mate, that's not right," he said softly. "Go back and say something nice to him."

Barbossa's eyes shot over to the boy but nothing came to mind, and he was silent.

"Go on," Jack prompted. "Tell him you're proud of him. Tell him you like him. Tell him _something _for Christ's sake," he muttered when Barbossa still failed to produce a farewell. "You've been playing father for the poor kid all trip - you can't just leave him hanging now. G'won." He shoved Barbossa back down the ramp and Barbossa went, slowly, thinking.

The comment about playing father... he suddenly remembered the day Willie had brought up that very subject. The kid had been asking about the sword... Aha. Perfect.

Willie had already turned to go, crestfallen. "Boy! Get back here!" Barbossa called after him. Willie rushed halfway up and then stopped as if he didn't dare come any closer.

This allayed Barbossa's fears of being hugged, and so he could take his time setting out a nice backhanded compliment. "I fully expect to outlive ye, and your fool children, and probly _their _fool children too," he began. "But should you ever find you've got a _great_-grandson who reminds ye of you, who can handle a pistol and cast magic half as well... you have him come find me." He laid a hand on his hilt. "Sword's all his."

* * *

"So, where to now?" Jack asked cheerfully once they'd got to open water. 

Barbossa didn't take his eyes from the horizon. "Thought we'd procure ourselves some gold, then go on and get the _Pearl _fixed. We look like somethin a storm coughed up."

"And then?"

"No."

"No?"

Barbossa turned to him and explained: "No, we're not doin whatever half-baked plan's on the tip of your tongue, Jack Sparrow. You can forget it straightaway."

"Oh, but-"

"Said no."

"But it's a great idea," Jack whined.

"So was Isla de Muerta. Answer's no."

Jack thought it over. "I'm going to dispute that."

Barbossa hardly minded - now that he wasn't on his deathbed anymore, he felt great and thought he could probably win any contest Jack cared to name. "Very well, we'll have it out now. Choose."

Jack said with a broad smile: "Wench Test."

Barbossa sighed. "I don't see no ladies here, and I've told ye I won't play Wench Test with a man. I don't care how dark it is or what he's wearin."

"We could go back and ask Elizabeth?" Jack suggested. "I bet she'd play."

He was half-hoping Barbossa would get offended, because then it would be fair to tease him mercilessly about being in love, but Barbossa only laughed. "Oh, come off it. First of all it must be a paid professional for Wench Test so's we know she's impartial... And second, Jack, you know I'd win."

"I don't know, mate, I think I could make Elizabeth very happy in fifteen minutes..."

"She'd like me better in five," Barbossa declared.

Jack shrugged and didn't argue. "For some strange and unfathomable reason, I have the idea that Will won't let us test that theory. Well, all right, no Wench Test. How about this instead: we sidestep the whole dispute by your just agreeing with me." Barbossa snorted. "I'll forgive you the hanging," Jack wheedled into his ear.

"You were going to do that anyway," Barbossa protested. "Very well, y'do it and I'll _listen _to what you have to say. Just listen, that's all."

"Psh - you were going to do _that _anyway." But Jack was confident that "just listening" would result in Barbossa eventually being convinced no matter how dead-set he was against it in the beginning, so he figured he was getting his money's worth. "Fine - I hereby forgive you for betraying and murdering me, again."

"Don't _again _me," Barbossa answered waspishly, "I only murdered you the once. And I _am_ sorry about it... or at least, I _was. _I spose if I'm forgiven now I don't have to be sorry any more."

"Listen," Jack began, but was interrupted by the lookout.

"SAILS!"

The captains sprang into action - Barbossa dashed to the railing and flicked open his spyglass, while Jack scrunched his eyes closed and covered his ears. "Not the _Dutchman, _not the _Dutchman, _not the _Dutchman,_" he muttered.

"It's not the _Dutchman,_" Barbossa confirmed. "Let's take her." He raised his voice and began bellowing orders to prepare for battle. The crew scurried to obey, and he grinned over at Jack with his hand on his sword. "By the Powers I've missed this. Get yourself ready, Jack." As he brushed by he reached out and clapped Jack on the shoulder and gave him a squeeze.

With the hanging fresh in his mind, Jack knew he should be cautious. He shouldn't read too much into a friendly gesture; in fact, he should probably interpret it as just an improperly-executed smack to the face. He should remain on his guard.

Course, Jack Sparrow wasn't exactly known for always doing what he _should_, was he.

He was smiling as he loaded his pistols.

* * *

The End. 

All right, ladies and gents, fair's fair: I put the entire giant story up, now you have to tell me what you thought of it!

ShinyGreenApple: Yep, one of my aunts used to wear great big silver hoop earrings, and when I was a few months old I apparently thought it would be a good idea to grab hold of one and yank.

a-k-a amber: I'm glad you like Beckett - I thought I was the only one!

As for the question of a **sequel**:

I don't know yet. I can hear Jack going, "Pirate is in your blood, boy..." and I'm not sure I can resist (I already have a good idea). The thing is, what if I want to be normal, and not have pirates scampering around in my head for three more months? I'm going to try and fight it. Maybe I'll post a couple of short stories to take the edge off, and see if that helps hehehe.

Thanks so much to all you guys for reading and for all the awesome comments you've left me. I'm constantly amazed at the idea that what comes out of my head amuses people, and it totally makes my day to read what you write. Thank you thank you thank you.

Less than three months to go til AWE!! Eek!


	43. TEASER FOR THE SEQUEL

**READ THIS.**

Ok. I can't help it, there are scenes in my head that won't go away, I'm sorry, we're doing a sequel. I'm posting this bit (sort of a short teaser chapter) on the tail end of _Another One, A Better One _so people with the story on update alert will find the new one.

So here is the first bit of the sequel, which has not yet been titled and takes place 6 years after the last one ends.

Enjoy!

* * *

After the battle the _Pearl _was bursting with treasure and practically undamaged, so the pirates stopped at Tortuga to celebrate.

Barbossa predicted quite early on that this would be one of those nights he would regret in the morning. He swaggered into a tavern and laid claim to a big table and first played a bit of Deception. It was fine... til Jack got in the game, and then before Barbossa knew it three bottles were empty and he was dizzy and Jack was grinning at him stone cold sober. _You'll be sorry in the mornin, _he warned himself. _No more Liar's Dice._

Next came a poker game, gold flyin everywhere, drinks disappearing one after the other, whores draped all over him and everybody's ego was up... and then someone pulled out a second ace of clubs, and Barbossa thought it reasonable to shoot him, and everybody applauded. But he was thinking, _That was one of your own crewmen, you ninny. You'll regret that when we weigh anchor._

Well. No more poker. Then there came some wine, and some girls, and suddenly he was up in a bedroom with one, pouring a handful of jewels into her bodice and thinking, _You could've bought your own brothel for that. Idiot. Tomorrow you'll wish ye never saw this hussy. _But he was having too good a time to take his own warnings seriously, and pretty soon he had emptied his pockets and his everything else.

Afterwards they drank more wine, and the girl stuck around to see whether he was good for another few gold pieces. She discovered to her intense surprise that he was in fact good for another tumble. He discovered - afterward - that he had decidedly _not _been good for another tumble, that he had pulled some vital muscle around his hip and would now be walking with a limp for the rest of the week. _Congratulations, fool, _he told himself wearily. _Come morning you'll curse yourself for that second go._

The girl finally left and he crawled into bed, drunker than he'd been in many a year, broke, pistol (and all other equipment) spent, woozily aware that come daybreak he was going to regret carrying his revelry to such an extreme.

He had barely started snoring when the door burst open and a lot of big, loud shapes piled in. Barbossa scrambled to sit up, eyesight so blurry that all he could make out was vague forms of people… and the glint of light off their weapons.

Drunk, broke, and unarmed, he began regretting the night a lot sooner than he had expected.

* * *

TBC.

Don't worry, he's not going to get himself banged up too-too badly. And I promise you bizarrity of the highest order within the next few chapters (a-k-a amber, you know what I'm talking about hehe).

This time I actually have an idea where the plot is going. It's going to be good. Only problem is… I'm going away until the 26th. I will make superduper efforts to update while I'm gone, but it'll probably be several days in between chapters.

And from now on it'll be its own story, not tacked on to _Another One A Better One. _Just check my author profile thingie to find it.

And, as always… Leave me a review! Feedback is inspiring.


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